


It Meant Something (The "It Didn't Mean Anything" Remix)

by fifty_fifty



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Banter, Bathing/Washing, Boys Kissing, Canon Era, First Kiss, Forced Bonding, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Neck Kissing, Pining, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 05:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19864093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fifty_fifty/pseuds/fifty_fifty
Summary: Merlin only has to do two things; one, don't let Arthur know about the magic, and two, don't let Arthur find out about the massive inappropriate crush he has on him.Oh yes, and also find out how to break the spell he accidentally cast on them leaving them stuck together 24/7, which makes the first two things so much harder to stick to.





	It Meant Something (The "It Didn't Mean Anything" Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ingberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingberry/gifts).
  * Inspired by [It Didn't Mean Anything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107376) by [ingberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingberry/pseuds/ingberry). 



> Dear Ingberry, It was an honour to remix for you. You're a treasure in the Merlin fandom and your fics are amazing. Thank you!
> 
> A huge thank you to T for the encouragement and the beta read. And thank you to the mods for your endless patience.

The evening is quiet. A little bit too quiet, Merlin can’t help thinking, as he traipses through the woods gathering branches and logs and other little odds and ends to start a fire which will hopefully keep on burning through the night. He has a strange feeling of foreboding that he can't seem to shake off. But carries on picking up the wood despite this, as he throws uneasy glances into the forest. He grabs a few more branches before deciding that will be enough and it's time to get the fire started. The light is drawing in and soon he and Arthur will start to feel the cool bite of the late summer eve.

Stupid Arthur and his hunting. If it weren’t for him, Merlin wouldn’t be searching for dry wood on the wet forest floor, whilst also being exceptionally damp himself, a little earlier having been caught in a rain storm with little else but a tree for shelter. Merlin will never understand how hunting can give Arthur so much joy. What sport is there in killing a harmless animal when you’re armed with a crossbow and arrow? The prey never stands a chance.

That said, Merlin is beginning to think at this moment in time that he could murder a rabbit with his barehands he’s so hungry. Still, he can return back to their makeshift camp now, get that fire roaring and finally get warm and dry. 

He is startled out of his thoughts by the sudden sound of someone starting to thrash their way through the undergrowth and heading in his direction. He instantly turns towards the noise, his hand raised, ready to attack.

“ **Merlin! RUN!** ” yells Arthur as he bursts through the undergrowth, almost barreling into him. Arthur yanks Merlin by the jacket as he passes him, almost pulling Merlin off his feet before he can manage to get his legs under himself and start to run after the prince.

“Arthur!” Merlin calls after him as they dash, duck and weave through the forest. “What are—”

Merlin’s question is quickly cut off by several jubilant voices whooping and shouting behind them. Bandits? But that doesn’t make any sense, no bandits in their right minds would stay in the Valley of the Fallen Kings.

Merlin runs faster, trying to keep up with Arthur, until Arthur skids to a halt a few steps ahead of him. Merlin struggles to slow his momentum as he skids by and stops just beyond Arthur. He hurries to scrabble back as he realises that he’s somehow on the edge of a cliffside, and the ground is far, far down beneath them.

Panting to regain his breath, Arthur shoves Merlin behind him, as he draws his sword. “Let me do all the fighting Merlin, you just stay back. Their problem will be with me, not you.”

The bandits are still advancing upon them, the leader’s gap-toothed grimace making Merlin take a perilous step back, sending a small shower of scree over the edge.

“Surrender now. You and your squire are surrounded!” he calls to them.

“Hey!” exclaims Merlin. “I’m not a squire, I’m the pr—” Arthur steps back onto Merlin’s foot. “Ow!” Merlin lifts his foot to massage it through his boot. “What was that for?” he hisses to Arthur.

“Will you just _shut up_?” Arthur tells him through gritted teeth.

The leader eyes them both eagerly as his men start to creep closer. 

“I don’t care who you are,” he says. “Just hand over all your gold and your weapons. The chainmail and belt, too. They’re good quality. I’m sure they’ll both fetch a pretty penny.”

“You’ll get nothing from me,” Arthur tells the man with a snarl, still brandishing his sword in front of him.

The man laughs loudly. “Give yourself up, knight. You and your skivvy are surrounded and outnumbered. Throw down your weapons and I’ll take it easy on you.”

Arthur sets his jaw stubbornly. “I’d rather die.”

Merlin peers over the edge of the cliff again, dangerously close now that they’re completely surrounded. He glances back at the men with half an eye on Arthur as he scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Arthur, are you sure that it’s a good idea to be antagonising them?”

“Why?” replies Arthur. “I’m not scared of a bunch of uncouth, unorganised bandits! I am a Knight of Camelot!”

Oh gods! Sometimes Merlin wonders if Arthur has changed at all since he first met him. He’s still just as much of a brainless prat as he was back then. Instead of doing something to improve their situation, it seems like the clotpole is dead set on angering this man and his gang, goading them to kill the both of them.

Merlin holds his breath and waits, his magic on standby.

“What did you just call us?” the leader growls, squaring up to Arthur so that they’re almost nose to nose.

“You heard me,” Arthur tells him. “Unless you’re deaf as well as dumb!”

“Oh yes, such a great plan!” says Merlin sarcastically. “Let’s get the burly smelly men with sharp swords upset with us.”

The man roars and raises his sword and Arthur wastes no time in turning and yanking Merlin by the jacket as he clean jumps off of the cliff, pulling Merlin over the edge with him.

Suddenly air-born and free-falling, Merlin feels his very breath rushing out of his lungs as he struggles for a moment to make sense of what is up and down as the world tumbles around him. He finally orientates himself just in time as he sees the ground fast approaching below. Merlin reaches out his hand and his magic bursts forth, slowing their descent and cushioning their fall and still they both hit the ground with a loud thud.

Merlin groans as he rolls onto his back and tries to assess his injuries. He doesn’t feel too bad… Ow, okay maybe it’s a bit bad. He is definitely going to have a bruise or two in the morning. But it could definitely be worse. Then his thoughts turn to Arthur.

“Arthur?” he calls anxiously.

There’s an answering moan before Arthur slowly hauls himself to his feet. “Sorry about that. But it was the only means of escape. Now, get yourself up and we’ll find shelter for the night. There’s a cave somewhere near here, hopefully they’ll be some firewood inside it. Come on!”

Merlin staggers to his feet and stumbles after Arthur, amazed that, firstly, Arthur has actually apologised for something in his life, and secondly, that he seems almost completely unfazed and unscathed by such a long fall. 

“You’re _sorry_? Arthur, we could have _died_ falling from that height!” 

“But we didn’t,” points out Arthur triumphantly.

Arthur glances up above where a group of angry and surprised men squint down at them.

“Now, come on. Before one of them decides to try their luck,” Arthur urges him, as he grabs Merlin by his coat sleeve and drags him into the undergrowth.

***

After a cold night, huddled together around a small fire in a dank, reeking cave, Merlin wakes up cold and hungry, with a deep gnawing sensation in his stomach after their failure to eat the night before. The hunger makes him feel sick and he wonders what, if anything, they might be able to forage nearby for some kind of sustenance. He stretches and hisses through his teeth as pain flares through his right side, his bruises making themselves known. He rolls onto his back and groans, needing time to recover before he makes another attempt to get up.

But before he can attempt it, he feels a kick to his side that makes him yelp in pain and scramble to get up and away from the errant foot. 

“Get up, you lazy sod,” says Arthur’s voice. “We need to get back to Camelot before my father sends out a search party. And trust me, if he does that for us getting chased by a couple of bandits, I’ll never hear the end of it!”

“Yeah, well you could have just _asked_ me to wake up, rather than kicking me in the ribs,” Merlin grouses. “You know, like a normal person!”

“Just get yourself ready, we’re leaving shortly,” Arthur says, skulking out of the cave. Merlin scoops up his jacket from the floor where he had been using it as a blanket and hurries after Arthur. He’s eager not to annoy him too much for the time being as Arthur has obviously woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Well, not bed exactly… but still. He’s probably as hungry as Merlin is. Hungrier, even. And as a prince he certainly isn’t used to being hungry. Not in the way Merlin is, for whom when growing up, that gnawing ball of emptiness had been an almost constant childhood companion. It was always hard getting enough to eat in Ealdor. 

Things are better now in Camelot. Gaius always makes sure Merlin has some kind of meal to line his stomach in the morning as a way to break his fast. Even if it is sometimes a tasteless gruel when money is tight for the town, and therefore for Gaius as well. The old man has never taken money for treatment from those who can’t afford it, and he never will. In fact, Merlin has often caught him purchasing food or a warm blanket or two for a patient. He’s even been known to do something as simple as giving one of the children of the lower town a coin or two to fetch his medicine jars, if he knew that their family were in dire need, but too proud to ask for help. 

Merlin gets paid, of course. But Gaius simply refuses to take a single penny from him for food or lodgings, or any of the other many things the physician does for him. He’s tried many times. Sometimes he is successful in the guise of gifts or food for dinner. Which Gaius will occasionally allow and Merlin considers that enough of a victory, at least for now.

With little else to do with his money, Merlin has been sending a stipend to his mother and the village of Ealdor for some time now, hoping that it will help ease the hardships of living so close to the border and all the bloodshed between Camelot and Assetir. At least his money will help so that other children need not go hungry.

Merlin trots along behind Arthur, imagining what would happen if they came upon a firepit with a roasted bird or a hog on it, succulent and cooked, ready to eat... He is sure with how hungry he’s feeling right now he could easily eat the whole thing, and if not him, then surely Arthur could. But of course, the chances of that happening are pretty much non-existent. Instead, Merlin fervently hopes that they’ll come across some berries, or even a stream where they can attempt to fish. Because if not, Arthur’s bad mood is sure to continue and he will grow ever more irritated all the way back to Camelot. 

It always seems to be Merlin who receives the full force of Arthur’s anger and frustrations. Not that Merlin minds too much really. In a way, it’s flattering. That Arthur—a prince—trusts him, a mere servant, that much to let go around him and actually express his feelings. He certainly doesn’t seem to do that for anyone else, as far as Merlin can tell. He was certainly never that way around Gwen when they were making doe-eyes at each other. When that all was happening Arthur was on his best princely behaviour with her, as though he was treading on eggshells

Of course, when Lancelot came back things changed. He had apologised to Gwen and worked hard to win back her love and respect. In the end, Gwen decided to give him another chance and now they’re happily settled together in Gwen’s fathers cottage. Lancelot has been learning how to be a blacksmith from her as a way to supplement their income, when he’s not training with the knights. Though honestly, it doesn’t seem to matter to Lancelot what he does now-a-days, just so long as he has Gwen.

Arthur had been very aggrieved at first, when he had found them together, Gwen accepting flowers from Lancelot with a pretty blush. But he hadn’t exactly been in a position to say anything. After all, nothing had been promised. No words or discussions or understandings had occurred. It was only after Arthur had been in a foul mood for weeks, ranting and raging at everyone one, that Merlin realised just how deeply Arthur had been affected by the loss of the woman whom he had hoped to make his wife. 

But it’s hard for even Arthur to begrudge them their happiness these days as Gwen’s belly begins to swell and there is a tenderness and softness to her smiles that wasn’t there before. Merlin thinks that perhaps this is the way it was meant to be and that fate and destiny has a different plan for Arthur. Because, as Merlin well knows, destiny often ends up giving you a different path than that which you would choose for yourself. 

If he could, Merlin would put himself out there and to try to get Arthur to understand how he feels about him. He would show Arthur just how much he believes in him. But Merlin can’t of course. Whoever heard of a prince and a manservant falling in love? It was preposterous thought. Arthur was going to be a king and he had heirs and a reputation to consider. Not that he was, or would be, in love with _him_ of all people. 

Merlin can feel himself tiring as Arthur continues striding through the forest at a fast speed, eager to be home as soon as possible. But Merlin’s not sure just how much longer he can keep up the brutal pace without either falling flat on his face, or falling far behind him, neither of which are particularly desirable. 

He ends up giving up on his quest to watch out for anything edible that they might be able to forage for their breakfast and instead concentrates on keeping up with Arthur. If they were in the forests near Camelot, Merlin would have been able to make them quite the little feast for breakfast, as he knows all the best hidden little spots for berries, nuts and edible roots, and even where the edible flowers and herbs dwell, what with all the work he does for Gaius in fetching ingredients for his potions and medicines. He’s become quite adept at foraging for them now. Not that Arthur would appreciate that skill, of course. If it doesn’t have guts and bleed, then really, what is the point in hunting for it, in Arthur’s opinion. Not that Merlin doesn’t enjoy a nice bit of meat when he can get it. But meat was more scarce than it was common when he was a child, so any time he eats it now Merlin has an appreciation of it that Arthur just does not. 

“Merlin,” Arthur barks out at him over his shoulder as he starts to lag behind again. “Hurry up!”

With a groan, Merlin redoubles his efforts. He knows that he can’t keep up much longer really. Not without breakfast and his bruises. But he can’t tell Arthur that. Arthur will roll his eyes at him and call him a girl for complaining. It wouldn’t be so bad if he could have had the chance to get some privacy to magic them away, but Arthur has been a constant presence since he woke up. 

Stumbling over a tree root as his feet begin to drag, Merlin falls to the floor with a yelp and a flail of his limbs. He can hear Arthur grumbling and he continues to thrash through the undergrowth. 

Let him, Merlin thinks grumpily. Let him go rushing off. Merlin is just going to take a nice little rest to at least get his breath back and let the pains and aches in his legs recede a little before he gets up.

As Merlin lays there, he feels a lurching sensation in his belly, it grows stronger and bigger with every second, almost like it’s there’s a stone there, growing heavy. He rolls over and staggers to his feet, wondering if he’s going to retch from the hunger and the exertion of too much, too fast this morning. But before he can do anything, there’s a sharp tug in his chest and he finds himself yanked forward somehow, as if he has a rope attached there. 

He cries out as he starts to get pulled along the ground on his front, dirt and leaves smearing against his chest. He reaches out and tries to grasp at the grass and dig his fingers into the earth in an effort to stop and get purchase. But he’s tugged ever forward, straight through a bush and brambles, which snag and tear at his jacket and flesh. 

“Arthur!” he calls out, trying to catch his breath. Or get to his feet. Anything, before he crashes into something worse! “Arthur, stop! Please!”

But Arthur doesn’t stop. In fact, if anything he seems to be picking up his pace. Merlin bashes against a tree, right into his bruised side and he screams at the pain of it.

“Merlin?” Arthur asks suddenly and Merlin feels a wave of relief flood through him when he realises that he’s finally stopped. 

Arthur appears at his side and looks down at him, a frown on his face.

“Merlin? What’s wrong? And why are you covered in dirt?”

“I— When you—” Merlin tries to speak. But he’s still too winded to get the words out. “Stay,” he pants.

Arthur reaches out a hand to pull Merlin to his feet.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his stance softening to one more of concern than annoyance as he takes in Merlin’s disheveled appearance. 

“Something’s not right,” Merlin tells Arthur, looking around the forest nervously. What had just happened wasn’t normal. People didn’t just find themselves dragged across the forest by nothing. No, there was definitely magic involved. But how?

“Are you hurt?” Arthur asks again.

Merlin looks over at Arthur and tries to brush some of the forest debris off his shirt. “No, I— Well— Yes. In a few places. But it’s not that. When we were walking through the forest, I tripped over a root—”

“No surprise there,” Arthur interjects.

Merlin silences him with a glare. “I went to get up, but before I could something… pulled at me.”

Arthur scoffs. “Don’t tell me you think that there are ghosts here, Merlin. Honestly, you’re such a girls’ petticoat.”

Merlin scowls at him, finally giving up on his shirt as a lost cause. He’ll have to magic the rips and the stains away later. “Of course not! I never said such a thing. What I meant was when you walked away I— Look. It’s easier if I just show you. Stay right here.”

“Merlin!” calls Arthur. “I’m the prince, you can’t just tell me what to do!”

“I just did!” calls Merlin over his shoulder as he strides through the woodland.

He heads towards a small clearing, as he enters he feels it. A gentle tugging sensation just left of center in his chest. But it’s not anywhere near as strong as it had been before. Arthur cries out behind him and with a wicked grin Merlin takes another rather large step forward and he hears a thud.

Turning around Merlin suppresses a smile at the sight of the Prince of Camelot sprawled undignified, face down in the dirt. 

“Merlin,” Arthur growls as he pulls himself to his feet. “What the _hell_ was that?”

Merlin rubs his chin thoughtfully. “That’s exactly what happened to me. I think…” he begins, “that we might be stuck together.”

“Stuck?” Arthur splutters. “What do you mean by stuck?”

“I don’t think we can get any further apart from each other than this—” Merlin gestures to the space between them. “Without being brought back together again somehow.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No, that’s not possible. You’re being ridiculous, Merlin.”

“Am I?” Merlin says, raising an eyebrow. He takes a step backwards and Arthur stumbles forward, only just managing to stay on his own feet. He glares at Merlin as he rubs at his chest.

“All right. Maybe you have a point. But how?” 

Merlin continues to stare at him, eyebrow raised, waiting for the coin to drop and Arthur to catch up. 

“Absolutely not Merlin. It’s not magic.”

“Oh yes,” says Merlin with a roll of his eyes. “We’re being held together by some kind of invisible thread or rope. But it’s not magic or anything!”

“Well, undo it then,” Arthur demands.

“I don’t know how!”

Arthur tuts and starts to walk past him. “Hasn’t Gaius been teaching you anything?”

“Gaius has been teaching me lots of things,” says Merlin, hurrying to keep up before he’s dragged unceremoniously behind his prince. “He says a few more years and I’ll no longer be considered an apprentice.”

“And he’s not taught you anything about… you know what.”

“N-no. I mean, what? What’s ‘you know what’?” he asks, trying to keep the panic from his voice.

“Come on, Merlin. I’m not stupid. Magic.”

“Magic?” says Merlin, forcing himself to laugh loudly, he hopes that it sounds natural rather than hysterical. “No. Of course not. He wouldn’t. Magic is forbidden in Camelot.”

Why is Arthur asking him about magic? Does he know? Merlin holds his breath as he waits for Arthur to respond. 

“Yes, it is,” admits Arthur. “And yet... Gaius always seems to have an answer whenever there’s a problem that’s magical in nature. Curious that! I know you help him, Merlin. My father turns a blind eye to the fact that Gaius was a sorcerer, because it’s convenient to him. Camelot needs Gaius’s knowledge and protection. When I am king, I will need the same. So I’m asking you, _as Gaius’ apprentice_ , how do we fix this?”

“And I told you already, I don’t know. I’m not Gaius!” says Merlin, really starting to panic now. Arthur is entirely too close to the truth and Merlin doesn’t know how to distract him. “I’m just your servant and a physician’s assistant!” 

“Well, we can’t go back to Camelot like this,” says Arthur. “We need to fix it before we get back. My father will have a fit if he finds out we’ve been attacked by some kind of unknown magic whilst hunting in the woods.”

“I already said I don’t know how to! It’s not like we can get a knife and sever something that we can’t even see. Let’s just go back and get to Gaius as soon as we can. In the meantime, we’ll have to stick together. I bet no one will even notice, I’m with you most of the time anyway!”

“Fine,” Arthur snaps, staring him down with his piercing blue stare. Merlin swallows. It will be okay. He’ll cope being around Arthur twenty-four hours a day. He has before. But this time it’s rather different. Before, Merlin could escape. He could get away from Arthur, at least for a time, and actually _breathe_. Knowing that they’re stuck together. That there’s no out, no escape, no breaks. That they _have_ to make sure they’re a few paces from each other at all times... it all feels rather more than Merlin can bear. Especially with Arthur’s recent probing about magic.

“Let’s go,” says Arthur, turning on his heel and storming past him. Merlin hurries after him. “The sooner we get back, the sooner we get this sorted out.”

***

They burst into the physician’s chambers at the top of the South tower. A climb they’re both very familiar with after two years of Merlin being in Arthur’s service.

“Gaius?” calls Merlin.

The old man startles at the top of the ladder and Merlin rushes over to steady it, forgetting for a moment about his and Arthur’s particular predicament, causing him to drag a spluttering and indignant Arthur after him.

“Ah, Merlin,” says Gaius with a grin once he has safely made his way down. “Just the person I was hoping to see! We are rather low on feverwort and completely out of henbane. And since the afternoon is still young, I’m sure you will be able to fetch me some before sundown. I must have some for the Lady Archibald’s medicine for her leg pains. If you would be so kind as to allow Merlin leave of your services, Sire?” he finishes, directing his question at Arthur.

“I’m afraid I cannot, Gaius,” says Arthur.

“Oh,” replies Gaius with surprise. “May I ask why?”

“We, uh, have a little bit of a problem—” begins Merlin.

“A _little bit_? Try a big, huge problem!” interrupts Arthur.

Gaius raises an eyebrow and eyes them curiously before turning away to tend to a potion that is boiling over an open flame. “Is that so?” he asks. “I suppose you will enlighten me then.”

“The thing is... Arthur and I— Well. Basically we’re stuck together,” says Merlin. “When either one of us tries to move more than a few paces from the other, something happens and the other one gets pulled along with them.”

Gaius looks up at them sharply, examining both their faces before turning towards his book shelves with a contemplative hum. “That’s unusual.”

“I’ll say!” Arthur pipes up.

“Yes, I think we all know that,” Merlin agrees. “Look, we were wondering, have you ever heard of something like this happening before?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps. I would need to consult my books. Arthur, do you think you could fetch a book for me? That big green one, up there.” 

Gaius indicates to a book up on the shelf at the top of the balcony up above them.

“Why can’t Merlin do it? I’m the prince,” he complains.

Gaius glances over at Merlin, a touch nervously. “I need him to… assist me, with Lady Archibald’s potion. I would ask you, Sire. But it is at a very delicate stage where even the slightest error could render the medicine useless. But Merlin has been making this potion for many months now and it is his skills that I require to complete it. If you could fetch the book, once the potion is finished, I will check to see if I can find anything within it to resolve your current predicament.”

Arthur harrumphs, but seems satisfied with Gaius’ impromptu explanation and as he starts to ascend the ladder Gaius beckons Merlin closer.

“Now, Merlin, what really happened?” he asks in a whisper. “I assume magic was somehow involved in this quandary? Tell me as much as you can, I fear our opportunities to speak freely may be few and far between.”

Merlin huddles closer to Gaius under the guise of helping with a potion and glances up at Arthur who is dangling precariously from the ladder in an effort to reach the green book. He’s acutely conscious that if Arthur moves too much further away, he could be swept off his feet and hauled halfway up a ladder.

“Nothing happened, I swear!” Merlin tells Gaius. “No sorcerers. No magic. Nothing. Well, we did come across a group of bandits we were out hunting. But that’s all.”

“And nothing strange happened with the bandits? You’re sure there were no sorcerers amongst them.”

“I’m certain.”

“Tell me quickly about what happened with the bandits.”

Merlin looks up at Arthur, still struggling to get the book he can just about touch with his fingertips.

“There’s not much to tell. They gave chase and we came across a cliff edge. They had us surrounded with nowhere else to go. So Arthur, the idiot, decided to jump and he pulled me with him. We would have broken our necks if I hadn’t have softened our landing.”

“Ah!” exclaims Gaius.

“What?” hisses Merlin as Arthur let’s out a triumphant shout.

“You used magic,” Gaius whispers.

“I’ve used magic lots of times to save us before,” Merlin replies, “and it’s never—”

“Here you go!” declares Arthur, depositing the book with a thud on the desk beside them.

Gaius smiles kindly at Arthur. “Thank you, Sire. Now, about those herbs…”

“Can’t I’m afraid. My father is expecting me to dine with him tonight. But I’m sure you’ll find someone else to do it. Come on, Merlin. I must bathe and dress,” Arthur calls as he starts to walk towards the door.

Merlin feels that tug in his chest and stumbles over a stool and hurries to dash around the desk. “Sorry, Gaius. Tomorrow maybe? And you’ll let us know if you—” Merlin glances over his shoulder and raises his eyebrows at Gaius, “find anything?”

“Of course,” says Gaius. He sits down with a sigh and opens the book to begin reading. Merlin makes a mental note to ask Arthur if they can come back after dinner to help. 

“Merlin!” yells Arthur and Merlin bashes his head against the door frame as he’s unexpectedly propelled forward.

“Ow, all right. Keep your hair on, I’m coming!” Merlin shouts back. “Bye, Gaius!”

***

Having accosted a servant on the way to Arthur’s chambers to fetch water for Arthur’s bath, Merlin stops in the hallway and fights against the bond to get Arthur to come with him to a cupboard down the hall.

“Merlin, where on Earth are you going?” Arthur protests, matching pace with him. “Have you completely lost your head? My chambers are over _there_!”

Merlin scowls at him. “Yes, but your bathtub is in _here_ so help me out with it and then you can have your bath. It doesn’t just appear by magic, you know. _Someone_ has to drag it in and out of your chambers.”

By the time they’ve dragged the bathtub to Arthur’s room (no chance of using magic to lighten it this time), the first of the servants arrive with pails of water. Merlin hastens to pour them into the tub before returning the buckets to the servant. Over the next few candlemarks a troop of servants come in and out, each with more water to add to the tub, until finally it is at a satisfactory level for Arthur. 

Fetching a clean cloth, soap and a bathing sheet for afterwards, Merlin starts to prepare for the bath, whilst Arthur goes behind his screen to undress. Though why the need for a privacy screen when he’s about to be walking out naked, Merlin doesn’t know. That’s nobles for you.

“Ready?” calls Merlin, listening intently as his hand hovers over the tub. He waits to hear Arthur’s response.

“Almost,” Arthur replies. 

So Merlin whispers, “Onhǽte þá wæter,” to heat the water in the tub to the perfect temperature. He’s got this down to a fine art now. Well, most nights he does anyway.

There’s a silence, as though Arthur has stopped moving. Merlin glances up and Arthur peers around the screen with a frown on his face.

“Everything all right, my Lord?”

“I thought I just felt something. A—a tingle or something. I’m not sure. It was rather peculiar.”

“Maybe it was a breeze,” Merlin suggests, hoping to be helpful.

Arthur appears from behind the screen, as naked as the day he was born and Merlin hastily averts his eyes, hating the way he still manages to catch the way that Arthur stretches luxuriously in all his nude glory.

“No, it wasn’t that. It was like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

Merlin swallows and turns away from Arthur and towards his bed. 

“You should get in, Sire, the water will be getting cold,” he says as he starts to pick up all the things that Arthur has decided to discard on the floor since they had returned from their hunting trip.

Behind him he hears a splash and a deep rumbling groan that makes Merlin shiver. 

“Oh, this is perfect,” Arthur moans. “Just what I needed.”

Knowing it is now safe to turn around, Merlin crosses the room to hang up Arthur’s jacket and jerkin, before depositing Arthur’s spaulders and vambraces on the sideboard with his sword, neatly wrapped in its sword belt. He startles when Arthur calls out to him.

“Merlin, pass me the soap, will you?”

Hurrying over with the bar of rose scented soap, Merlin stretches out his hand to pass it to him. Hoping to the gods that he won’t ask Merlin to assist as he sometimes does.

“Mmm, it feels good to get clean,” Arthur comments. Then he looks up at Merlin. “You look like you could do with a wash yourself!” Arthur leans forwards, cupping his hands and them tipping water over his head, before reaching for the soap and lathering his hair. “You can have my water when I’m finished here.”

“What!?” Merlin exclaims with alarm. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll just wash down with the ewer and wash basin, that’s plenty good enough for me.”

“Come on, the water is already here. It will still be hot. When was the last time you had a proper bath?”

Drawing himself to his full height Merlin looked at him. “If you must know it was just last week. I went to the public baths with Tyr and a few of the other servants. We all make sure we go at least every other week and I washed my clothes just before we left. That’s more than enough.”

“You only bathe once every two weeks? Well then,” says Arthur, rising suddenly from the bath, forcing Merlin to focus his eyes elsewhere. “That means you _must_ have a bath. In fact, I’m declaring it now. You shall have a bath after me every time that I have one.”

“W-what?” Merlin stutters, hurrying away with a pair of boots towards Arthur’s bed and away from Arthur.

Out of the corner of his eye Merlin can see Arthur wrapping the bath sheet loosely around his waist.

“You heard me, didn’t you? Or have you suddenly gone deaf. Get those clothes off and into the bath.”

“But—but I haven’t picked you an outfit yet for dinner with the king!” Merlin protests.

Arthur strides over to his wardrobe, leaving a trail of water and footprints in his wake that Merlin knows he’ll have to mop up shortly. “Despite what you think, Merlin. I can actually dress myself.”

“You had me fooled,” Merlin murmurs.

Once he’s settled on a shirt, breeches and a jacket Arthur turns on him. “Clothes, off!” he orders as he disappears behind his changing screen. 

Merlin swallows. Looks like that’s no way around it. This is Arthur at his most stubborn. At least, Merlin reflects, he’ll have a modicum of privacy whilst he undresses, if he’s quick about it. He pulls off his jacket and belt, letting them fall to the floor, then he kicks off his boots and socks. Next he undoes his neckerchief and tugs off his shirt before it’s time for his to drop his trousers and small clothes. 

He hastens to get into the water and as he steps in it’s still pleasantly warm. But not _quite_ hot enough, he runs a finger through the water and it instantly heats to the perfect temperature and he can’t help but groan at it in the same way Arthur had.

“Did you feel that?” Arthur asks. “It’s like earlier…”

“No,” Merlin lies. “Didn’t feel a thing.”

“Maybe it _is_ a breeze.”

Merlin closes his eyes and hums deeply and Arthur chuckles.

“See? It’s good isn’t it. But don’t get too used to it,” Arthur calls from his screen. “I wouldn’t want a spoiled servant.”

“Trust me, there’s no danger of that,” Merlin says sarcastically, as he sinks further down into the water with a sigh. 

“I think you’ll find—” Arthur begins as he appears, thankfully dressed, from behind the screen. “That you would be the envy of all the other servants if they knew you got to use my bathwater.”

Pompous prat. Merlin frowns and reaches for the soap. Better get this done quickly and properly so that Arthur can’t find fault with him again. He lathers his arms, legs and chest, not daring to wash anything else below the water line.

“Here, let me,” comes Arthur’s voice softly. He takes the soap from Merlin’s hands, and then proceeds to wash Merlin’s back. Merlin freezes completely under his ministrations and screws his eyes shut, trying not to think how wonderful it is to feel Arthur’s gentle, calloused touch on his back. His magic buzzes and swirls within him and Merlin schools it to behave itself. No accidents or slips in front of the Prince of Camelot’s very eyes. 

“There,” says Arthur as warm water washes slowly down Merlin’s back. Arthur replaces the soap back on the edge of the tub, then he stands up and wipes his hands dry on his bath sheet, which he then proceeds to hang carefully just on the edge of the tub. “Now wash your hair, you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. I have to finish my letter to Princess Elena. Get out when you’re finished and help yourself to a clean shirt. I expect you to be out shortly. No dallying.”

“Yes, Sire,” Merlin mumbles looking down at his hands. His mind is a whirl of thoughts and confusion as he picks up the soap again and Arthur goes the short distance to his desk nearby.

Once Merlin’s hair is clean, he reaches for the towel and hastens to wrap it around himself as soon as he gets up, water sloshes onto the floor and Arthur glances up at him sharply.

“Sorry,” says Merlin with an awkward smile. 

He feels even more awkward and uneasy, standing there in Arthur’s tub, dripping wet like an idiot. Arthur nods over at the wardrobe and finally Merlin gets out and pads over to it. Except, he only gets so far before he feels the tugging in his chest and Arthur let’s out an oof, having been pulled hard against the edge of his desk. 

“I can’t get any further than—”

Arthur sighs and gets up. He storms over to the cupboard. Eyeing the contents he grabs an old purple shirt that he never seems to want to wear, and throws it into Merlin’s arms. “Don’t just stand there, put it on,” he says crossly.

“All right,” says Merlin testily. “No need to be an arse about it. It’s not _my_ fault we’re like this. I can’t help it!”

“Well, it’s not my fault either!” Arthur snaps back. “Just hurry up and dress. It’s almost the dinner hour.”

Arthur goes back to his desk. Tugging Merlin along behind him as he tries not to slip on the water pooled near the bathtub. Merlin scoops up his clothes as they pass them and he hurries to dress. 

“Finally,” Arthur huffs when he’s done and then it’s time to head off for dinner.

***

“Arthur!” calls Uther cheerily as they enter the room.

Sailing into the room, Arthur goes straight to the long dining table, with Merlin tailing behind him, rather than walking alongside as they usually do. Partly because of Arthur’s bad mood, and partly because Arthur can’t be seen treating his servant well in Uther’s presence.

“Father,” says Arthur with a nod as he takes his seat.

“Hello Arthur,” Morgana greets him.

Merlin moves to pick up a pitcher of wine and pours some into Arthur’s glass, he is well-trained by now on all that Arthur expects of him. Especially when his father’s eyes are on them.

“I’m glad you’re both here,” says Uther. “I have some great news!” 

Perking up, Arthur sits up straighter in his seat. “Really?” he asks in an attempt to be casual.

“Indeed. In three days hence, Lord Ellwyn and his daughter the Lady Elisabeth will be arriving for the great harvest feast and dance!”

Arthur takes a calculated sip from his goblet. “That will be pleasant for Morgana, I’m sure. You were friends when you were small, were you not?”

“Yes, I knew her. Spoilt brat who would never share her toys,” Morgana says with a flick of her hair.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Arthur mumbles and receives a piercing glare for his troubles.

As the servants come in from the kitchen with plates laden with food, the king continues.

“I want you to attend to her Arthur, between your duties to prepare for the festivities. There should be a welcome feast for our noble guests, of course, and one for each day after until the great harvest feast. I know that I can rely on you, Arthur. And another thing. You must… show Lady Elisabeth a good time,” says Uther as he plays with the stem of his goblet. “If she enjoys her stay here, then we will be able to get a good deal for the kingdom with her father.”

Arthur splutters and chokes on his mouthful of food that Merlin has dished up onto his plate.

“Show her a good time! Surely father you can’t be expecting me to— Do you want me to marry this woman?”

Uther dismisses his question with a wave of his hand. “No, no. Of course not, it would be a waste of our resources forming an alliance with them. But it never harms to give the illusion… the possibility of a marriage. Entertain her. Please her. Help pave the way for our trade deal.”

Arthur shakes his head and puts down his napkin on the table. “I’m sorry, Father. I have too much to do to waste time on a—”

“Arthur, you will entertain the Lady Elisabeth and she _will_ have a good time here. _Is that understood?_ ” Uther says sternly, his face dark and unpleasant.

“Yes, Father,” Arthur replies, finally complying.

Uther turns nice and pleasant again, now that he has asserted his power over his son. “Good. Now, tell me. How did that hunting trip of yours go? Successful, I hope?”

Glancing at Merlin, communicating his desire that Merlin shut up and not say a word, Arthur looks back at his father. “Not in so many words. But sometimes that is the way. I was eager to get back and get started on preparations for the feast anyhow.”

“I’m glad,” says Uther. “A toast! To a successful autumn harvest and a successful feast!”

***

“Thank goodness that’s over!” exclaims Arthur, the moment the wooden doors close behind them. “Who does he think he is, telling me what to do?”

“I think he’s your father and the King,” Merlin replies with a teasing grin.

“Shut up, Merlin,” says Arthur mulishly.

Arthur turns to go down the hallway, which leads to the stairwell up towards where his chambers are located. 

"I need to go to Gaius’s,” Merlin calls to him, as he starts to hurry after him.

"Why on earth would I do that, Merlin? It's late and I want to go to sleep.”

“I need to get my things!” Merlin says.

Frowning, Arthur asks, “Your things? What things? Why would you need to get anything from Gaius’s? You’ll be back there just as soon as you’ve readied me for bed.”

“That might be a bit difficult,” says Merlin, stopping where he is whilst Arthur carries on forward. Merlin yelps as he’s tugged forward and goes sprawling to the floor, finally Arthur glances over his shoulder and stops.

“Oh,” he says.

“Yes, ‘oh’,” replies Merlin, glaring up at him before clambering back onto his feet. “I can hardly get you ready and then go back to my own bed, can I? So. Gaius’s?" Merlin asks hopefully.

“Fine. We might as well. We can see if Gaius has found anything."

"Yes," agrees Merlin. "We could even help him out. Looking for information about our… bond in Gaius’s books is a bit like looking for a needle in a haystack. We might never find the information we're looking for, but with three of us looking—"

"Oh no," interrupts Arthur. "I'm not going to be doing any reading. That's why I have you, so that I don't have to…"

"Fine," says Merlin, knowing this is one battle he's certain to lose. Arthur hates reading and will always try to avoid it if he can. He’d much rather be running around outside with a pointy sword.

At this point, Merlin would agree to almost anything if only they can go and see Gaius. He really wants to speak with him again to find out what Gaius was going to tell him before Arthur interrupted their tête-à-tête.

With a big sigh, as though he’s indulging Merlin in some kind of favour, Arthur turns around. 

“Come on then,” he calls as he passes Merlin and heads back where they came to go back to the physicians tower.

***

Gaius looks up at them over his eye glasses—his own creation after getting tired of holding a hand glass—when they come barrelling through the door. 

“Ah, Merlin. Sire. Good evening to you both.”

“Any news, Gaius?” Merlin asks, heading for his usual spot on the bench at Gaius’s table.

“Well, not as such,” he says, cagily.

Standing nearby Merlin, Arthur raises his eyebrows. “Well, either you know something, or you don’t. So which is it, Gaius?”

Swirling a brown potion in his hand and holding it close to a candle to examine it, Gaius starts to speak. 

“What I mean to say, is that I’ve found nothing in my books so far, Sire. However, my suspicion is that this will not be a permanent affliction.”

“Thank goodness. Finally some good news,” says Arthur. “So you think that you can undo it then?”

Gaius hums in response. “That remains to be seen.”

Merlin gets up from the able. “I need to pack some things. For tonight, I mean.” He looks over at Gaius. “I might need some help with the _thing_.”

“The thing?” asks Gaius in confusion.

“Yes, you know the _thing_ that you asked me to take care of? In my room?”

“I know what you’re doing,” says Arthur, folding his arms. “You want to have a conversation, without me. Why?”

Merlin does his best to look innocent. “Oh, no reason, Sire.”

“Oh, it’s ‘sire’ now, is it? Well,” Arthur takes a seat at the table and smiles aggressively at them both. “Since I am your prince and will one day be your king. You can say whatever it is you were going to say in private, _right here_.”

Merlin can feel the blood draining from his face. Surely this isn’t going to be the way that Arthur finds out, is it? Merlin had always envisioned Arthur finding out in a more heroic way about his magic. Perhaps during one of the many occasions where Merlin has saved Arthur’s arse, not because Arthur insisted that they have a conversation right in front of him.

Gaius places the potion down in a rack and takes his time to cork it before walking over to them. 

“Certainly, Sire. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t wish to make you uncomfortable. But I believe that there may have been sorcery involved. Where exactly was this area that you were hunting in, may I ask?”

“The Valley of the Fallen Kings. Everyone knows that you get the biggest stags there. I wanted to bring one home for the harvest feast.”

Gaius nods solemnly. “Yes, that would make sense. Sire, what I believe may have happened is that when you and Merlin both fell together, the magic _of that area_ —” Gaius’s eyes flick over to Merlin’s for the briefest of seconds and Merlin finds himself holding his breath. “And the danger of the situation, may have inadvertently linked, or bonded you both together.”

Merlin’s eyes bug when he realises what it is that Gaius is trying to say. _He_ is the source of magic, not the area. Merlin’s magic has done this to them both.

“You think just being in a magical area could have done that?” Arthur asks.

“I certainly think there was a strong source of magic within your immediate surroundings,” says Gaius honestly. ”I’m sure that it will work itself off over the next few days.”

“How many days?” Arthur asks.

“Quite impossible to put a number on it, I’m afraid. Magic is an inexact science at best, and as such, difficult to predict or anticipate. But I’ve never heard of this sort of thing lasting for more than a few days. It really would depend on the magic in the area. If it were, uh, particularly strong, then you could be looking at a while longer than that, I’m afraid.”

“But I need to organise a succession of feasts, a dance, and enamour a noble women!” says Arthur with dismay. “I can hardly do that with Merlin traipsing after us, tripping over thin air.”

“Hey!” Merlin protests. 

Arthur shrugs at him. “Well, it’s true. And it’s hardly going to be kind conducive environment for romance with Merlin having to stay within arms reach, is it?”

“Sorry to interfere with your love life,” Merlin mutters. 

A part of him is hurt that Arthur is so put out by them having to be so close all the time. He knows that there will never be anything more to their relationship than master and servant, or at most, a tentative friendship. But the least Arthur could do is not act like it’s some awful, horrible thing to have Merlin around him whilst they wait for this bond to wear off. He’s thankful that Arthur doesn’t know that it was likely Merlin’s magic that caused this to happen in the first place. He can’t imagine how Arthur would be treating him otherwise. That is, if Merlin is understanding Gaius’s coded talk correctly. He wishes that they could talk properly, but obviously that’s not going to happen any time soon, if at all. So Merlin will have to try and decipher what he can and hope that he’s got the right end of the stick.

“Hush the both of you. You’re going to be stuck together for the foreseeable future, so I suggest that you make the best of it. Merlin is your manservant and as such it’s his job to help you, so it shouldn’t look too strange to anyone that you’ll be spending your time together. Merlin can assist you with the preparations for the feast and you will just have to be a bit more creative when it comes to entertaining your lady friend, Sire. You can start to do just that in the morning. Right after you get me my herbs, of course.”

***

They finally return to Arthur’s chambers, following several hours of looking through old dusty tomes—well, Merlin had spent most of the time looking through books detailing magic spells and stories that could possibly be viewed as historical accounts of forced bonding. Arthur had spent most of the time complaining. 

Arthur heads straight for his changing screen.

“Fetch me my sleeping trousers, Merlin,” he calls.

Merlin walks towards the cupboard to get them when Arthur yells out behind him and there’s a scraping sound of wood against the stone floor. “Watch out, you imbecile!” he bellows.

“Well, you’re the one who asked me to get them! Do you want me to get them or not?” Merlin shoots back. 

“You should have known and warned me!” Arthur protests.

“Well, I’m not a mind reader. I didn’t know that we don’t have enough space between us to cross the room. Let’s test it out now and then we’ll really know.”

They proceed to walk around Arthur’s chambers to figure out the limits of their bond and where they can and cannot reach without one of them pulling the other one off their feet before Arthur declares that enough for one day and he changes into his usual sleeping attire; trousers and no shirt, and Merlin changes into his; an old pair of Arthur’s sleeping trousers that he’s patched up a bit, even if they are a touch too short in the leg, and an old cream shirt that he’s had for years now.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asks, when Merlin starts to climb onto his bed.

“I’m _not_ sleeping on the floor,” Merlin says hotly. “We could be stuck like this for days.”

“But this is _my_ bed!”

Merlin shakes his head. “You can tell you never had to share as a child. I repeat: I am not sleeping on the floor Arthur. Now shove up, there’s plenty of room for two.”

“Fine,” huffs Arthur as he rolls onto his side facing away from him.

“Night Arthur,” says Merlin blowing out the one remaining candle, plunging the room into darkness.

“Night Merlin,” Arthur mumbles in response.

Merlin lies there for sometime, on his back, staring at the ceiling. This is strange, and weird, and uncomfortable being here. Not physically. Physically, the bed is quite soft and warm and comfortable, fit for a prince. Emotionally, he is discombobulated. He’s slept by Arthur’s side so many times over the years when they’ve gone hunting or on patrols or on campaigns even—often, it’s the best way to conserve body heat and keep from freezing overnight—especially when Merlin is often equipped with a rather thin blanket in his backpack for sleeping. 

But this time it’s different. Merlin isn’t just sleeping by Arthur’s side, he’s also sleeping in Arthur’s bed. With him. In Arthur’s own private domain where other people don’t ever seem to venture. Not even a servant girl or two like Merlin would have expected from a prince like Arthur. It only ever really seems to be Merlin who gets the privilege of coming into this part of Arthur chambers, unless Arthur is sick, of course. 

Now he’s actually in Arthur’s bed. Merlin can’t help but wish it were under different circumstances. He’s entertained many thoughts and dreams of what it would be like if Arthur decided to take him to his bed. But Merlin knows that they’re merely pipedreams, as he reminds himself all too often, as a way to reinforce the idea. For whoever heard of a prince—a man who would be king—falling in love with, or even desiring his very male servant? Besides, Arthur was way too noble for his own good and would likely think he was taking advantage of his position as Merlin’s master. Secretly, Merlin would like that too. But he knows he will have to be content to leave them as daydreams.

As he lies there in the bed, Merlin decides instead to take in every detail of how soft it feels on his back, how plump and full the pillows are, just as he had expected them to be. The sheets are cool and smooth beneath his fingertips, far finer than anything Merlin could ever imagine experiencing on his own bed, so very far a cry from his own scratchy sheets which are just about not irritating if you lie on them in just the right way before you sleep.

He listens to the careful, wakeful breathing of Arthur and lets out a small sigh of his own. 

“I’m sorry we’re stuck like this,” Merlin offers, knowing that Arthur’s still awake. The words almost stick in this throat at the idea that he is skirting dangerously close to a confession of guilt with such a statement.

“Not your fault,” says Arthur sleepily.

Except that it is. 

Gaius had managed to write Merlin a small note and slipped it into the next book Merlin was going to read, right under Aurthr’s nose. And it confirmed what Merlin had already suspected. Gaius thinks that this bond of theirs was caused when Merlin’s magic saved them after they had been forced to jump down the cliff the day before. There had been some cases in the past of forced bonding and as far as Gaius could tell all were created in a moment of extreme danger for a sorcerer with a person for whom they had close feelings. The magic would lash out and reach out to save the person. It was unusual for a bond to occur between someone with magic and someone without. But not completely unheard of. They just had to make sure that Arthur never found out that the truth of the matter and hang on in there until the bond wore off.

He skips over Arthur’s reassuring words, glosses over it. It’s always the best way, he’s a shit liar at the best of times. He decides to switch the subject away a little from the danger of confession, discovery and lies, to something a little bit brighter.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure that Gaius will come up with something! And in the meantime, I’ll try my best to help you with the feast. You never know, it could be fun!”

Arthur scoffs next to him. “Shows what you know. It’s boring, and hard work.”

“Is that why you’re in a bad mood?” Merlin asks with amusement. Hoping that poking a little fun at Arthur will help to lighten the mood.

“I’m not in a bad mood!” he protests.

“You are,” Merin replies. “You have been ever since this happened. Look, I know it’s going to make things awkward between us. I know that it’s going to test both of us, not to be able to have some time alone. But like Gaius said, we’ll have to make the best of it.”

“I’m not in a bad mood about that. Well, okay, I am. But it’s this feast. They’re always so stressful to organise and my father will expect nothing less than perfection from me.”

“Well then, I guess that it’s a good job you have an excuse for me to help you out then, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.” 

There’s a rustle of the covers and a shifting of the bed. 

“Night Merlin,” says Arthur.

Merlin turns onto his side, recognising that he’s been dismissed and nothing further will be discussed tonight.

“Night.”

***

The next morning Merlin awakens with a groan. What the hell. Why is it so _bright_? He squints as he raises his head to look around the room and hisses at ache from his bruises which have yet to fully heal. A quick glance around tells him he’s in Arthur’s room and he lets himself flop back on the bed. 

He should have known. This bed is way too pleasant to be his own. And then it all comes rushing back to him through the hazy fuzz of sleep. The bond. Gaius implied it would wear off over time. Merlin wonders if he ought to test it. But it’s an idle thought. He’s way too comfortable where he is to consider moving anytime soon of his own volition.

He turns his head to the side and there is Arthur. Still sound asleep, curled up on his side, his hand fisted in the covers. It’s strange to see Arthur like this, it’s like a hollow mockery of all that Merlin wants but will never have. This whole thing seems like a cruel punishment, as though the gods know of his feelings for Arthur, the son of a man who hates magic, and are voicing their disapproval. This moment of being so close and yet, so far feels like a mean punishment. 

Arthur looks young like this. As though all the responsibilities of being king one day are somehow lifted from his shoulders at this moment and Arthur is just a young man without a care in the world. Free to be who he wants to be and not expected to follow some preconceived plan for the rest of his life. But Arthur’s life has been determined for him from the very beginning. Even his very existence was plotted and planned for, before he had even been conceived. And Merlin thought that he had it bad with his destiny! It seems rather a small thing to complain about when compared to a life in which you had almost no say, a life that was not your own. Merlin, at least when he was younger, had no such expectations upon him. He was free to be himself, though that did get him into trouble on several memorable occasions. But he did have a childhood, and he had friends. He had love. He wonders if Arthur ever really got to properly experience any of these things.

The early morning sun catches on Arthur’s hair, burnishing it as though he is some kind of god himself. A sun king. Merlin longs to lean forward and press a soft kiss to Arthur’s pink plush lips which are slightly parted as he breathes deeply, fast asleep. Life is so unfair.

Arthur begins to stir and rolls over onto his back, stretching. He smacks his lips as he stretches his arms above his head.

“Merlin,” he croaks.

Merlin hurries to clear his throat. “Morning.”

“Well, don’t just lie there, you lazy sod. Fetch me my breakfast immediately!”

It’s on the tip of Merlin’s tongue to remind Arthur of the predicament and how that clearly means that Merlin cannot in fact get breakfast for them, since he cannot even get across the entirety of Arthur’s chambers without one of them pulling over the other with their invisible bond. But instead, he feels it would be much funnier to give him a rather rude awakening, and this time, it will involve zero effort on his behalf.

“Yes, Sire!” he says, springing out of the bed and marching across the floor until he hears a crashing thud and a strangled yelp.

“Bastard,” snarls Arthur, pulling himself up to sitting on the cold stone floor with a pile of blankets still wrapped around him.

“Just following my masters orders, Sire.” Merlin says, taking another step towards the door, Arthur goes skidding across the floor with him.

“Wait! Stop!” he calls out. “Just wait for me to—” He starts to get to his feet and Merlin takes another small step with a hint of a smile. Arthur glares at him. “Just wait,” he continues, “then we can both go to the door and you can summon another servant to get breakfast.”

Merlin opens the door and peers around it, to see if there are any servants passing by that he can hail. He spots Gwen, her dress a very familiar and relieving sight, at the end of the hall walking away from them. 

“Gwen!” Merlin calls out, and he beckons her over with his hand.

She hurries over with concern. 

“Merlin, is everything okay? I hope Arthur’s not unwell, that would be rotten timing with the feast a few days away.”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Merlin says.

“Yes, I’m fine!” Arthur pipes up, appearing in the doorway beside Merlin.

Gwen eyes them both suspiciously and then her eyes bug a little as though she’s realised something as they both stand there in sleeping clothes with their hair sleep-tousled.

“I—I—I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. I—” She clears her throat and straightens her posture. “What may I do for you, Sire, Merlin.”

Merlin swears that she’s only seconds away from curtsying.

“Guinevere, you wouldn’t be able to do us a huge favour and fetch some breakfast from the kitchen, could you?” Arthur asks.

“I—Of course,” she says, and she really does curtsy this time.

“Thank you, Guinevere, I’d send Merlin like usual, but there’s just so much we need to do today. I need him by my side,” says Arthur.

Gwen’s eyes widen even more at this and she nods and curtseys again and then turns on her heels and hurries off for the kitchen.

When she gets back with a hot breakfast, she insists that they both sit and she serves it to them.

“Thanks, Gwen!” says Merlin.

“Yes, thank you Guinevere,” Arthur adds.

“It’s my pleasure, Sire. And might I add, I am very happy for you both,” she says, before she hurries off once again. 

Merlin finds himself blushing and Arthur frowns. “What did she mean by that?”

***

The day turns out to be a long one. 

After they breakfast together, at Merlin’s insistence, they go to the forest and get rather dirt-covered as they gather herbs for Gaius, as promised the night before. Unfortunately, Gaius has no further news for them and continues to insist that the best way forward is to just let the bond run its course.

With no end in sight to their close proximity, Arthur drags Merlin off to training with the knights, which is by no means out of the ordinary, as Merlin usually attends these anyway. Sitting at the side lines with water for the knights when it’s hot and tending to various pieces of weaponry and armour that are in need of repair or sharpening. But this time, that’s simply incompatible with their circumstances.

“Nevermind, Merlin. I’ll just have to include you today. You can show the knights all the things that they’re _not_ supposed to do in close combat, and who knows. Maybe one day you’ll actually be able to handle yourself with a sword. Remember, you hold it by the handle, not the blade!”

“Haha, very funny,” grumbles Merlin as he picks up a sword and a helmet, already mentally preparing himself for a beating. 

This isn’t going to be one of those easy-going, playful—well, Arthur’s version of playful, which was pretty different to Merlin’s—sessions that sometimes occur when Arthur decides he needed to show off to his knights and poke a bit of fun at Merlin’s swordsmanship. This is going to be one of those occasions where Arthur is harsh and unrelenting, and even a bit on the mean side, to assuage his frustrations at their predicament. 

But if this outlet will make Arthur more pleasant to deal with for the rest of the day, then Merlin will gladly grit his teeth and bare it. He might even put up a fight, just to show Arthur that he isn’t _quite_ the pushover that everyone thinks he is. The idea of using magic to aid him tickles at the back of Merlin’s mind. But he pushes the thought aside. No, that would be unfair and cheating. And it was hardly a good idea to do magic under the full eyes of all the knights. It was too risky, too dangerous, and for what? So that he can come close to besting Arthur? Or even miraculously actually beat him? No. It wasn’t a judicial use of his magic. Perhaps, a year or two ago, the idea would have been more tempting. But as Merlin grows older and wiser, he is learning that there are times where the risks don’t outweigh the rewards. So he takes a deep breath and steels himself as he puts on his helmet and stands opposite Arthur, ready for him to criticise his every move.

The session over, Merlin lies sprawled on the floor; hot, sweaty, and gasping for breath.

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur says, giving him a gentle kick to the side.

“Ow,” complains Merlin. “Can’t you see I’m suffering?”

“If you’re suffering after that, then clearly I’ve been being too soft with you and you need to do this more often. Get up, we have things to do. I can’t hang around here with you complaining that you’re tired all day.” 

In a gesture of goodwill, Arthur holds out a hand to Merlin to help him get to his feet. With a grumble, Merlin takes his hand and slowly manages to get himself upright. But his arms feel like lead and he’s surprised that he still even has them after all that. His back aches and his legs are trembling. 

“It’s all right for you, you just spend most of your time yelling at people,” Merlin grouses, still trying to catch his breath.

“It’s called instructing, Merlin. I wouldn’t expect you to understand the difference. Let’s go. I have to talk to cook and the head of the household about plans for the feasts.”

“No rest for the wicked,” Merlin mumbles, trooping behind him.

“I heard that!”

***

They’re both tired from traipsing all over the castle to make various arrangements for the feast the next day, when in the late noon hours a messenger arrives hailing the impending visit of his master Lord Ellwyn and the Lady Elisabeth, his daughter, within the early hours of the morning.

Arthur groans.

“Is there a problem, Sire?” the messenger asks eagerly.

“Not at all,” replies Arthur, pressing a coin into the man’s hand. “Please send word to your master that we are very much looking forward to his visit and my father and I will be here to receive him tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sire,” says the servant with a swooping bow before mounting his horse once more to head off again. Merlin and Arthur watch him as he gallops out of the courtyard and Merlin can’t help but feel that the man has earned his coin riding that fast on a horse all day.

They make their way to Gaius’s tower and as they enter, Merlin casts a longing eye at his room. He had gone in there they night before, but Arthur had been there with him, so he hadn’t dared to take his book of magic. Perhaps there’s something about how to break a bond in there?

Gaius turns to face them.

“Ah, Merlin. Sire!” Gaius bows to him. “Just the people I wanted to see. Merlin, I’m making William the Inn Keeper’s salve for his knee, you wouldn’t mind adding some of those _herbs_ that we keep in the backroom would you?”

Merlin feels the blood drain from his face. Gaius cannot be serious. He can’t be asking him to perform _magic_ with Arthur by his side, can he? 

“Uh, herbs?” he asks. “Can’t you get them?”

Gaius raises an eyebrow at him. “I would, but you know how my back is. My old bones need a rest after a long day like this, and William could really do with an especially strong salve given the visitors that will be arriving for the festivities tomorrow. So, if you would be so kind…”

“You’re sure?” Merlin asks him, throwing a cautious side-glance at Arthur.

“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t needed.”

“Okay..." Merlin starts to make his way to his small room at the back of Gaius’s chambers and Arthur makes to follow him. Merlin holds out a hand to keep Arthur from following and motions for Arthur to take a seat on the bench. He should be able to just about make it into his room to cast the spell without pulling on the bond. Gaius smiles and passes him the salve. 

“Sorry, I need to pee,” Merlin offers as explanation.

“That doesn’t seem very sanitary,” comments Arthur, screwing up his nose as he sits.

Merlin grins at him. “You'd be surprised at how many medicines have urine in them!” he says cheerfully.

“What!?” exclaims Arthur.

“A physician’s little secret. But don’t worry,” Merlin calls as he disappears through the doorway. “it’s only when necessary!”

He closes the door behind him and breathes a sigh of relief. Since the morning, they’ve devised a system, there is just enough slack between their bond that they’ve been able to relieve themselves in private in the next room, so long as the other hangs around the door on the other side. It’s the only moment of privacy that either of them have had since this whole thing began and Merlin is glad for it. Being around Arthur constantly is starting to feel like more than he can cope with. 

He goes to his bed and there’s a new blanket neatly folded up on it. He lifts the blanket to peek under it. Lying there is a handwritten spell from Gaius. Merlin scans over it and quietly sounds out the words, it’s some kind of adaptation of a spell he often performs on remedies for aches and pains for Gaius’s medicines. Gaius asks him because his magic is more potent and he has sworn an oath to Uther not to use his own. Merlin is always glad for the practice and a use for his magic outside of Arthur. It’s nice to feel like he has other skills; a purpose and way to help Camelot on a daily basis.

Once he’s read over the spell one last time, Merlin pockets it and starts to chant, feeling his magic flowing hot and fast through his veins. 

There’s a loud exclamation from Arthur the other side of the door and Merlin hurries to throw the door open, half-expecting Arthur to be under attack. A part of him is disappointed when he sees that everything looks normal.

“Everything okay?” he asks innocently as he passes the magicked salve to Gaius.

Arthur frowns. “I don’t know. I just felt something funny, a few moments ago. It was almost like a shiver, but different.”

Merlin bites his lip. “Maybe you’re coming down with something,” he suggests.

With a shake of his head Arthur continues, “No, this felt good. It was… sort of tingly, but also warm.”

“Hmm, strange. So… are we staying here for dinner or—”

“Gods no!” Arthur interrupts. “Come on Merlin, we can stop by the kitchen and you can pick up our food.”

***

Merlin stifles a yawn as he stretches in his chair. It’s so warm in Arthur’s chambers and he’s so tired and exhausted from the vigorous activities of the day and sluggishly content with a stomach full of good food.

“Can we go to bed now?” Merlin asks.

Arthur drums his fingers on the table and rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he agrees. “I suppose it wouldn’t do to be tired when the Lady Elisabeth gets there.”

Merlin feels his shoulders hunch and his skin prickle at the mere thought of Lady Elisabeth and the fact that she’d soon likely be an interloper in this weird relationship of sorts. Although being with Arthur like this has been frustrating and difficult at times, it’s also been really nice in its own way. Arthur has had to learn how to compromise, at least a little bit, because of it. And though he’s had his moments of anger, since working most of it out through training, he’s been almost… nice. And Merlin would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that it felt pretty good to have all of Arthur’s attention today. And now, after just one day of it, Merlin is going to have to share Arthur with some vapid princess with gorgeous blonde locks. He hopes that she will be mean and vapid, but deep down a part of Merlin worries that she might even be nice, or that Arthur will lose his heart over her. 

But Arthur doesn’t seem worried about tomorrow. He carries on as normal, and even fetches his own sleep trousers. He proceeds to change into them in the middle of the room, with no regard for their usual formalities where Merlin usually hands him his clothes and Arthur changes behind his dressing screen. Merlin watches a little in disbelief, unable to tear his eyes away from him as Arthur let’s his breeches drop and then steps out of them. His strong legs and thighs visibly flex, causing a fluttering in Merlin’s chest as his mouth goes inexplicably dry and he swallows heavily. How can he be so perfect? 

Sometimes Merlin thinks Arthur is the most perfect man in the universe, and then he opens his mouth and says something, which reminds him all too well that Arthur is not. But maybe that doesn’t matter. Maybe Arthur is perfect for _him_ ; despite his arrogance and his teasing, and all the rest of his flaws, there’s just something about Arthur that makes him… Arthur. And try as he might, Merlin can’t seem to rid himself of his feelings. 

Then Arthur slips his shirt over his head and Merlin is hit full-force by Arthur’s broad chest and torso, and he suddenly hates everything in his life. 

“Hurry up, Merlin,” Arthur says, stepping into his clean trousers and tying them up. Merlin startles at Arthur’s voice and fumbles with the knot at the back of his neck. His normally clever, nibble fingers are suddenly helpless and uncoordinated.

Arthur tuts and bats his hands away and reaches around Merlin’s neck. He makes swift work of Merlin’s neckerchief and Merlin dares not even breathe as he stares into Arthur’s clear blue eyes.

“I trust I don’t need to continue undressing you,” Arthur says, his voice a little hoarse.

Oh Gods. Merlin feels his face flush as he looks down at his hands and scrabbles at his belt. Arthur backs away and kicks his clothes over to the side of the room. Merlin does his best not to be distracted by Arthur’s state of undress as he tries to focus on changing out of his own clothing. As he shrugs off his jacket and pulls off his shirt he looks around the room and realises that he’s forgotten to bring his other sleep clothes, he had carted off his others in Arthur’s laundry, after having done something rather unforgivable in Arthur's bed in the early hours before Arthur woke...

“Honestly, Merlin,” Arthur says, throwing some clothes at his head. “You’re the worst servant I’ve ever had. Just take these for now. You can return them later.”

Merlin takes off his breeches, folding them neatly and putting them on the table before stepping into the clean ones offered up by Arthur. He feels a tingle travel down his spine and suppresses a shudder as he becomes aware of Arthur’s eyes on him as he watches from the bed.

“So, silly question, but why did you dress yourself tonight?” Merlin asks as he tugs the shirt over his head. 

It hangs off his shoulder, with Arthur being broader than him. But he’ll take that over being shirtless in bed with an actually shirtless Arthur. He bends to pick up his other clothing to leave it tidy and ready for the morning.

Arthur shrugs at him from the bed. “It just didn’t feel right. I mean, it’s not like you have a choice to be here or not. So I didn’t want to treat you like a servant in your own time.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Merlin grumbles as he approaches the bed.

“Well, I can stop it now if you want,” Arthur says, raising a pillow ready to aim it at Merlin. 

Merlin laughs. “No, it’s just feels weird, doesn’t it? You being nice to me.”

“Merlin,” Arthur says warningly.

“All right, I’m coming.”

Sliding into the bed, Merlin leans over to blow out the candle in an echo of their night before. 

“Looking forward to tomorrow?” Merlin asks in the darkness.

Arthur makes a derisive noise. “No. Tomorrow I have to be my father’s performing monkey; charming, flattering, whatever it takes to get Lady Elisabeth on side.”

“Whatever it takes?” Merlin questions, as his heart thuds away in his chest.

“Within reason,” comes Arthur’s voice.

“Must be tough to be expected to build relationships like that, especially if your father has no intention of allowing it to go any further.”

With a hum Arthur shifts in the bed, and when he starts to speak, Merlin realises that he’s turned onto his side to talk to him. “Sometimes. It used to be harder. But I’ve got used to it now. I need to get used to it. It will be a useful skill in my arsenal for when I am king.”

“Have there ever been any times where you’ve—” Merlin pauses and takes a deep breath before he finishes his question, “—wanted to… to… I don’t know, marry them? But your father forbade it.”

“Not as yet. Well, excluding the Princess Sophia. I don’t know what came over me with her.”

Merlin hums, remembering Sophia and her Sidhe father. “And you’ve never met this Lady Elisabeth before?” Merlin asks.

“No, I met her father once when I was younger. A stern chap. I wouldn’t really want to mess with him, so I can understand why Father would want me to entertain and charm his daughter. But I still wish that duty didn’t fall to me. Morgana is equally capable of entertaining.”

“True. But she won’t be queen,” Merlin points out. 

“No,” is all Arthur replies, a note of despondency in his voice.

“Do you ever wish it weren’t the case that you were going to be king? That you didn’t have this big thing hanging over you your entire life?” 

Merlin is curious to know how Arthur feels. They’ve never really talked about any of the things that they’ve found themselves talking about tonight. Merlin wonders if it might somehow be the work of the bond, bringing them closer together through the magic and giving them greater feelings of trust. Or whether it’s merely the proximity of their situation and the cover of darkness that allows them to have such an open, honest conversation without any of the joking and banter that usually peppers their discussions during the light of day.

“I—” Come on, Arthur, Merlin wills him. Talk to me. Be honest and say what you feel deep down, even if it could be considered illegal or treason to say it any other time. “Sometimes I do wish it could be different. I think about what it might be like to be ordinary. To run away somewhere and start a farm.”

Merlin lets out a laugh before he’s even realised it. But the idea of Arthur of all people becoming a farmer is rather comical.

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” Arthur grumbles.

“No, no. I appreciate you telling me. It’s just, I can’t really picture you doing all that back breaking labour, long days and without all your luxuries and comforts like hot baths and palace kitchen dinners. You’d have to do your own laundry!”

“Well, I’d have you for that, obviously!” Arthur tells him. 

Merlin can hear the smile in his voice and it makes his heart swell in his chest. He’s done that. He’s cheered Arthur up. 

“At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. I’m the prince, I don’t get a choice. I have to do what is best for Camelot and her people. And if that means charming a few women or even marrying for an alliance, rather than love, then that is my destiny and my duty.”

“Mmm,” Merlin agrees. “Destinies are troublesome things, aren’t they?”

Arthur scoffs. “As if you would know anything about that.”

“You’d be surprised,” Merlin says honestly. “We all feel trapped by our destinies, as though our whole lives have been planned out for us, with us having no control over anything. And sometimes, I don’t even know if what destiny has decided is really the best thing at all.”

“Be careful, Merlin. Someone might mistaken you for someone who’s actually wise.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Merlin jokes. “Sometimes, I do wonder if we have a choice in not exactly what we’re destined to do. But perhaps in how we do it.”

Arthur hums. “Perhaps.”

And as they lie there in the darkness, Merlin moves his hand to brush lightly against Arthur’s. He holds his breath as his heart thunders away in his chest. They’ve always skirted close to the line of what is acceptable between a master and servant. Completely stomped all over in it on a lot of occasions. But Merlin’s never pushed their relationship in this direction before and he wonders if he might have gone too far.

But then Arthur presses back into his touch and keeps his hand there.

“Good night, Merlin,” Arthur says softly.

“Night, Arthur,” Merlin replies, with a smile so big that his cheeks begin to ache from it. 

***

The next morning, they call on Gwen again to fetch their breakfast, and as she passes the tray to Merlin at the door, she raises an eyebrow at him.

“Look, I know that you and Arthur have this _thing_ going on now…”

“You do?” Merlin asks, his eyes wide, wondering just how Gwen knew. Had Gaius told her? Or had they been too obvious? They had tried not to be. Yesterday Arthur had made sure to be overly domineering and shouty, demanding that Merlin be at his beck and call all day as he made final preparations for the feast. 

“Yes,” Gwen hisses. “It’s pretty obvious. But don’t worry, I don’t think anyone else has noticed, _yet_. That’s why you need to stop doing this. You need to stop acting like you’re joined together at the hip and actually leave Arthur’s chambers to get your own food. I’m doing it again this morning because I’m your friend, but I can’t keep doing it, Merlin. I have my own duties to attend to.”

“Oh, of course,” says Merlin, a little disappointed. “So there’s no way I could ask you to do Arthur’s laundry this afternoon ready for the feast?”

Gwen glares at him. “No, there’s not. Honestly, Merlin, just because you’re spending the night with Arthur now. Doesn’t mean that you can shirk your duties and put them all on me! Do your own work. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” says Merlin sheepishly. “Sorry, Gwen.”

“Merlin!” calls Arthur from inside the room. “What is taking you so long?”

“Sorry, Gwen! Got to go. Arthur needs me.”

Gwen shakes her head. “Honestly, Merlin. Spare me the details.”

“Coming!” calls Merlin as he heads inside.

***

After breakfast, Merlin dresses Arthur for his meeting with Lord Ellwyn and Lady Elisabeth with a heavy heart. He wonders if once she is here, he and Arthur will lose that closeness that they’ve gained over the past few days. Sure, they’ve had a few arguments and disagreements, as per usual for them. But there’s been a deeper understanding and underlying tenderness to their interactions that haven’t been there before. Merlin worries that Lady Elisabeth’s impending arrival could remind Arthur that he’s not supposed to be confiding in his manservant. And then there’s the fact that their bond is still as strong as ever. Gaius said that it should only last a few days, yet here they are, still bonded together. And worse yet, that means Merlin won’t be able to shirk his duties whilst this new woman is around. He’s going to have to witness every single one of Arthur’s wooing attempts and probably assist him with a fair few of them too. 

He heaves a sigh as he straightens Arthur’s cape. Despite their new closeness, Merlin is looking forward to when they won’t have to stuck at each other’s side. While it’s nice, it’s also excruciating in equal measures. And if their bond is not worn off by the end of the week… well then Merlin is going to have to take some drastic measures and either render Arthur unconscious, or wait until he’s sure that he’s asleep again to relieve himself of the tension... the unbearableness of being in such close quarters with Arthur for so long... Having to watch him, smell him, and sleep right there next to him without being able to do a thing about it... It was all starting to get a bit too much to bear without being able to have at least a little bit of privacy by himself. He can’t risk what he did the other morning. It was a miracle that he got away without waking Arthur, even though he did his damndest to be quiet.

“What’s wrong with you?” Arthur asks, giving him a friendly shove.

“Nothing,” Merlin replies, setting Arthur at arms length from him so that he can place his crown on his head.

Merlin loves this part. He loves the symbolism of him being the one to make Arthur officially royal. Not that Arthur’s not always royal. Because it’s just a part of what makes him, _him_. But it always feels a bit somber and proper. It sobers Merlin and makes him realise who Arthur really is, he’s not just the intolerable prat that Merlin has lost his heart to, but a noble, honourable man that Merlin has a duty to help become the best king that he can be.

“Are you sulking because you can’t disappear and leave me in the lurch when Lord Ellwyn arrives?”

“I would never!” Merlin protests as he gently puts the crown on Arthur’s head.

“You have before,” Arthur notes, standing perfectly still, as he always does until Merlin proclaims him ready.

“That was different,” says Merlin as he steps backwards to examine Arthur with a critical eye. He pushes aside his thoughts about how incredibly, breathtakingly beautiful Arthur is right now. “I was almost dead.” He adjusts the crown a little and looks at him again. “Okay, you’re all set!” he declares.

“Finally,” Arthur grumbles. But Merlin knows that it’s just for show. “Come on, Merlin. Let’s go get this over with.”

***

Later that day, Merlin is subjected to the first of Arthur’s attempts to woo the Lady Elisabeth as he offers to take her for a walk through the palace gardens. Merlin rolls his eyes as he follows behind them as discreetly as he can—which is to say, not discreetly at all—given that they cannot put any kind of proper distance between them. 

As such, Merlin is subjected to all the banal small talk that Arthur attempts. Lady Elisabeth is pretty with long golden hair in a neat braid that almost touches her bottom, Merlin bets that must be a pain to keep looking so nice. Merlin can’t even imagine wearing his hair even as long as Arthur does. He always has Gaius lop some off if he feels like his hair is getting too much to deal with. It’s simpler that way and he’s always kept his hair relatively short. He doesn’t have time to bother with a comb or a brush for his hair. Just a quick swish in a water bucket in the morning, or a hand run through his hair is enough for him. 

What is it with all these princesses being blonde anyway? They always seem to be the most perfectly fair maidens with the bluest of blue eyes and the clearest complexions. Surely not all the nobles have such good looks running in their families? Merlin knows that can’t be the case, because he has seen some pretty unfortunate looking men amongst them. And yet, it always seems to be these blonde women that Arthur has to entertain. Perhaps they think Arthur has a type that he will go weak at the knees for.

They’re wrong though. Arthur’s not that kind of man. He has a sense of decency and honour and he always makes an effort to get to know the lady in question. He’s (relatively) sensible when it comes to matters of the heart and his head isn’t easily turned that way.

Trailing behind them, Merlin tries to block out their conversation, aware that part of his displeasure at being there has its roots in something that feels a lot like jealousy and yet he’s unable to quash it completely. He takes in the plants around them and decides to see how many he can name and remember what their uses are. Though Gaius often scolds him for a lack of interest in becoming a physician, he does try. It’s just that there’s always so many other more pressing things going on in his life that by the time he finally gets back to their chambers in the evenings, the last thing Merlin wants to do is study.

But as he recounts the various flowers and herbs planted there and their uses, he starts to realise that he has taken in more than he had realised. He smiles with amusement as he wonders what Gaius would say if he knew that Merlin was actually spending time testing what he had learned for once, and could see that all his teaching and nagging was finally paying off.

Finally, Arthur and Lady Elisabeth seem to be done and Merlin follows Arthur back to his chambers for a short break before Arthur has to check on the evening’s festivities once more.

***

“Merlin,” calls Arthur from behind his changing screen. “Bring me my smart jacket, the black one.”

Merlin glances at it, sitting in the ever-growing laundry pile near the door. He can’t hand that over to Arthur, it’s filthy. But of course with Gwen having refused to help and Arthur neatly dodging the subject of laundry any time Merlin mentions it, he hasn’t been able to get any done for either of them since this whole thing started.

He walks over and picks out the jacket and gives it a sniff. He wrinkles his nose. No, it’s no use. Arthur can’t wear that, it’s out of the question. Not without… Merlin glances around the room to make sure Arthur is still out of sight and he whispers a few words under his breath. 

He hears Arthur give a big gasp and he glances around the screen. 

“Now I know I wasn’t imagining that! What was it?” Arthur asks, looking around the room and going to pick up his sword from the table.

Merlin looks around, confused, not quite sure what Arthur means.

“Did you feel it?” Arthur asks him.

Merlin shrugs and looks away. “I don’t know what you’re referring to,” he says, busying himself with taking Arthur’s now-clean-jacket and hanging it over the screen.

“You had to have felt it. It was a sort of… buzzing. It went straight through me.”

Biting his lip, Merlin adds clean socks, small clothes, and a pair of breeches to Arthur’s screen ready for him to change into. He hopes that it’s merely a coincidence that Arthur’s acting like this after he just did magic.

“You need to dress Sire, if you wish to arrive early to check on proceedings,” Merlin reminds him, hoping to distract Arthur from his current line of thinking. He has a suspicious feeling that Arthur might have felt him using magic. But how? He really needs to speak with Gaius in private. Perhaps he can have a discreet word with Gaius at some point during the feast whilst the Lady Elisabeth is making moon eyes at Arthur.

“You really didn’t feel it?” asks Arthur from the other side of the screen, as he chucks a shirt over it and grabs the clean one to put on.

Merlin stifles a sigh. He hates lying. He hates it with a passion. But as he’s found out, it’s a necessity for him living here in Camelot. He always does his best to avoid telling a direct lie. He tries to skirt the truth in some manner, or to deflect the question and distract the person who is asking. But this seems to be something that Athur won’t be distracted from.

“No, Sire,” he replies, hating himself for how easily he decided to lie to Arthur and hating Uther’s laws on magic that make the lie necessary in the first place. 

He hopes that once Arthur is king things will be different and he will be able to confess his magic to him without fear of Arthur hating him for it. Of course, there will be the matter of all the lies that Merlin has told him over the years to deal with… whether they be direct lies or lies by omission. Arthur won’t really care about the distinction between the two. He will feel the betrayal just as keenly regardless. And he’ll be hurt that Merlin never told him before, even though it would be as good as signing his own death warrant at worst, or putting Arthur in the horrible position of having to protect him and defy his father’s law, at best. Merlin can’t bear to even think about it.

“Hmm, maybe it was just me then,” Arthur says, stepping out from the screen in shirt and breeches, ready for Merlin to fasten his buttons, cuffs, and collar before helping him into his cloak, socks, and boots. 

And then Merlin crowns him once again.

“Perfect,” says Merlin with a sad smile.

Arthur stares at him contemplatively for a moment, he looks as though he’s going to ask something. But then the moment is broken as Arthur straightens his back and nods at him. 

“Come on then, Merlin.” 

***

“Gaius!” Merlin hisses in a loud whisper over the buzz of conversation in the room. The welcoming feast—the first of several—is in full swing, so now is the perfect time to have a word with him unnoticed by anyone else, just so long as he can actually manage to catch the physician’s attention.

Merlin smiles to himself and nudges Gaius goblet repeatedly with a little push of magic. Gaius raises his head and their eyes meet. Merlin raises his eyebrows at him and tips his head to the side, trying to indicate that Gaius should come over to him.

Suddenly he feels a pair of eyes boring into him and as he looks around to find the source of it, he sees Arthur staring at him from the table with a puzzled look on his face. Merlin gives Arthur a small, casual smile as Gaius excuses himself from the conversation at his table and he pushes himself to his feet. He makes his way over to Merlin.

“Gaius, thank goodness! Listen, how much do you know about these bonds? A few things have happened that have made me think that maybe Arthur might be feeling when I use my magic somehow. Would that be possible? Also, any luck on finding a way to break the damn thing?” Merlin blurts out all at once. He wants to make sure that he’s asked all the things that have been preying on his mind whilst he can. He and Gaius haven’t been able to have so much as a single private, honest conversation since this whole thing started, so he’s hoping that he might be able to finally get some answers from him.

“Not much, admittedly,” Gaius replies. “These things really aren’t common Merlin, and it doesn’t help that so much of the knowledge of these things have been lost as part of Uther’s war on magic. Both in books and in terms of verbal knowledge. We really don’t have much to work on at all. If there is a way to break it, it’s been lost. You’re just going to have to wait it out until the end, whenever that will be. As for the magic, are you sure?”

Merlin casts his eyes over to Arthur, who is eyeing them both with suspicion. Merlin shifts uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Yes. He keeps asking me if I felt a tingling or buzzing straight after I’ve used my magic.”

“Hmm. And do you think that he suspects that it’s magic?”

Playing with a loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt, Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t think so. But I’m not really sure.”

“That is interesting, certainly and I will see if there is anything I can find in my books. But I doubt it. This sounds like something quite unprecedented.” 

“So what do we do in the meantime?” Merlin asks him.

“I suggest not using magic at all. Just until this bond of yours is broken. I shouldn’t imagine it will be too much longer.” Gaius pats him gently on the shoulder. “Hang on in there.”

Gaius slips away back to his seat and then Arthur hails him to come closer to refill his and Lady Elisabeth’s wine. Merlin comes over with the jug and carefully fills Arthur’s, then gives Lady Elisabeth a rather poisonous smile as he fills hers and ‘accidentally’ spills half of it down her dress.

“Merlin, you idiot!” Arthur says tersely as Lady Elisabeth exclaims in horror. “Apologise to Lady Elisabeth this instant!”

“Yes, Sire.” He turns to Lady Elisabeth who is patting at her skirts with a cloth. It does very little for the deep red stain on her pale yellow dress. “I’m sorry my Lady. It was an accident.”

She nods at him, apparently accepting the apology, but more likely more distressed at the stain it will cause than actually listening to him.

“Yes, I’m so sorry my servant is such a clumsy oaf,” Arthur says through gritted teeth. “Allow me to escort you to your rooms.”

Rising from his chair, Arthur offers her his arm. He turns to Uther who is deep in conversation with Lord Ellwyn. “I am going to return the Lady Elisabeth to her rooms—”

“Yes, yes,” replies Uther with a wave of his hand. “Goodnight, son.”

“Goodnight, Father.”

Lady Elisabeth and Arthur walk the halls to her guest chambers, closely followed by Merlin who has no choice but to follow. Arthur pays him no heed and he knows that this is his punishment for spilling wine on her. Merlin gut churns uneasy as he senses Arthur’s displeasure and realises that he’s going to a bollocking about his behaviour once they return to Arthur’s rooms.

When they reach Lady Elisabeth’s door she and Arthur both pause, and Merlin presses himself against the tapestry on the wall trying his best to be inconspicuous and wishing he could be anywhere else.

“Lady Elisabeth,” begins Arthur. “I wanted to thank you for the pleasure of your company today. It has been delightful and a pleasure. I do hope that we might be able to meet again tomorrow?”

She smiles brightly at him. “I, too, enjoyed myself very much,” she replies. “And I would be honoured to meet with you tomorrow. What say you to a morning ride through the woods? My mare and I would be extremely grateful for the exercise and fresh air.”

Arthur smiles a genuine smile at her. “That sounds perfect, my Lady.” 

He raises her hand to his lips and places a kiss there. She blushes deeply and they remain there looking at one another and still holding hands. Then it happens. Lady Elisabeth leans forward to make her intentions known and Arthur meets her the rest of the way in a chaste kiss.

“Until the morning, Lady Elisabeth,” Arthur breathes when they part from the kiss.

She giggles and flushes as she opens the door and steps inside. “Yes, in the morning,” she replies.

***

“What one EARTH were you thinking!” Arthur yells the second that they enter the relative privacy of his chambers. “You know how important it was that I make sure that Lady Elisabeth is well looked after and you go _deliberately_ spilling wine on her like some kind of clumsy country clod! But it’s all just an act isn’t it? You’re not _really_ that clumsy. You’re not _really_ that much of an idiot. No, wait, wait. I take that back, you really ARE that much of an idiot!”

“Look, Arthur… I’m sorry it was just—”

“No, don’t you just ‘sorry’ me! You don’t get to brush it all off like it’s nothing. You don’t get to be forgiven as though it’s no big deal. When really it’s everything!”

Merlin frowns at him. “Well, now I’m confused. You’re getting this worked up about a bit of wine on a dress?”

Arthur spends several moments staring at him and Merlin stares back, puzzled. Trying to figure out why Arthur is really so upset. It’s not like him to overreact like this.

Finally, he speaks. “You know what. Forget it. Get ready for bed.”

Reaching forward Merlin grasps Arthur’s arm. “Arthur?” he says softly. “Obviously it’s _something_. Do you—”

Shaking him off Arthur replies tersely, “I said get ready for bed, Merlin.”

“But—”

Arthur turns on him angrily and pushes a finger in Merlin’s face. “Not another word, Merlin!”

Surprised, Merlin hurries to get ready and the atmosphere in the room is nothing like it was the night before. Arthur doesn’t change out in the open of the room, he retreats to his changing screen once more and when he reappears he’s got on not only the sleeping trousers that Merlin puts out for him dutifully every night, but also a thin cotton shirt. His jaw is set and his eyes are still angry, though he won’t even so much as look at Merlin. An ice cold atmosphere blankets the room and Merlin’s stomach churns. What has he done that’s so wrong? Is Arthur somehow in love with this Lady Elisabeth? They did kiss after all... Merlin shudders as he recalls the memory. He banks the fire whilst Arthur stands stock still near his desk, since they can’t even stand as far apart as each end of Arthur’s chambers.

Then Merlin edges uneasily back towards the bed, not sure if Arthur will follow him, but feeling his gaze burning into his back none-the-less. Merlin decides to go ahead and get in the bed, regardless of whether Arthur is following him on not. He can feel his own, normally placid, temper starting to rise at Arthur’s treatment of him.

Once in bed, Merlin goes to lean out to blow out the candle and Arthur pulls him back by his shirt so that he’s laying with his back flat on the bed.

“Extinguish it from here,” Arthur tells him, his tone of voice unfathomable.

“What?” Merlin says, surprised.

“Put it out, from here. Without moving.”

“What? But that’s not—”

Arthur fixes him with a withering look. Merlin doesn’t understand what Arthur means. It’s not possible to put the candle out from here. But he turns his head slightly towards the nightstand anyway and tries to blow it out from there. But the distance is too far for him to do it. He tries again.

“Arthur, it’s not possible. I can’t—”

Within seconds, he finds himself pinned to the bed with Arthur above him, enraged. “Yes, you can. I know you can. Do it.”

Merlin’s eyes widened in shock as he suddenly realises why Arthur is so furious. Arthur knows. Merlin doesn’t know how. But he does. Merlin swallows hard against the wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm him. He pushes gently with his magic, not even able to think of a spell to use, and extinguishes the flame, leaving them dimly-lit by firelight. Arthur inhales sharply and tightens his grip on Merlin’s wrists.

“Was it you?” Arthur asks. He seems even more upset at the confirmation.

“Was what me?” Merlin asks.

“This whole bond thing. Was that you? Don’t. Bullshit. Me.”

“I—Yes! But it was an accident! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t even know I’d done it!” says Merlin, panicked.

“I take it Gaius knows?”

Merlin pauses. If he says yes, he could be taking Gaius to the pyre with him. Merlin should try to shield him, the same way as Gaius has always protected him. But he doesn’t want to lie. Not now and not to Arthur. 

Miserably, Merlin nods his head.

“That figures,” Arthur grumbles. “How long have you been using magic, Merlin?” 

“Since I was born,” says Merlin. 

He’s relieved that Arthur is finally asking something that he has no qualms being honest about. This is who he is. And although this is not the way he would choose to be having this conversation, at least they’re having it. If he survives this without Arthur sending him to the pyre, or even worse, banishing him, there will be no more need for secrets between them. The idea gives him at least a little bit of comfort.

“That’s not possible!” Arthur growls at him. 

“Well, it is. I’ve been doing magic since before I could walk!” Merlin protests.

Arthur releases his grip on Merlin and sits back on his heels. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a deep sigh. “What am I going to do with you, Merlin?”

“I don’t know,” says Merlin quietly. 

“Get some sleep. I’ll deal with you in the morning,” Arthur advises, returning back to his side of the bed.

Merlin feels strangely bereft, and though his heartbeat is finally starting to slow, his head is still full of thoughts and unanswered questions. At the very least, Arthur hasn’t done anything drastic, like taken his head off with a sword. But he also hasn’t promised that he won’t turn Merlin in. Merlin is surprised he’s not sitting in the cells of the dungeon right now, surrounded by cold, damp, and darkness. But of course, he can’t be more than a few paces away from Arthur right now, so that in and of itself is as good a surety as the dungeons.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Merlin says out loud.

Arthur grunts.

“Surely you can understand why I didn’t. Why I had to keep it a secret. And I promise, I really didn’t mean to bond us like this,” he pauses to lick his lips. The fact that Arthur hasn’t told him to shut up yet, is hopefully a good sign. “When we were falling down that cliff, I used magic to save us from dying, or at the very least injuring ourselves. Gaius said that is likely what caused it.”

Arthur makes derisive noise. “Get some sleep, Merlin. I said, we’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Biting his lip, Merlin says into the semi-darkness, “Okay. Goodnight, Arthur.”

There’s no reply.

***

The next morning, Arthur and Merlin both go down to the kitchen, much to Mary the cook’s surprise, and pick up breakfast. Then they both head to the stables to ready the horses, Arthur saddling Hengroen, and Merlin a brown mare that he’s taken a liking to.

“About last night,” Merlin says, finally breaking the ominous silence which has dominated most of their morning so far. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to. But his worries are eating him alive and he needs to know what his fate is going to be. “Are you going to tell your father?”

“I should,” Arthur responds. His back is turned to Merlin as he brushes out Hengroen’s mane.

“But you’re not?” Merlin asks him hopefully.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Merlin sighs and returns to tightening the buckle on his horse—Molly’s—saddle.

There are words on the tip of his tongue that he wants to say. He wants to press Arthur for a more definitive answer. But Arthur speaks first.

“Will you stop doing it?” Arthur asks.

“I don’t think that I could even if I wanted to,” replies Merlin honestly. 

“That’s not how I understood it to be.”

“There’s a lot that you don’t know about it. Because you’ve never been allowed to know. Neither have I. Neither has anyone living in Camelot. Entire generations of knowledge were lost in the Purge. And those who still know anything are too frightened to talk about it," says Merlin wearily, thinking of all those innocent people of magic who have perished. Who continue to perish at Uther’s rule.

“So you won’t stop?” Arthur asks him.

“No,” says Merlin firmly. “Do you want me to?”

There’s a long pause that stretches out between them and Arthur finally turns and looks at him. Really looks at him. 

“No,” Arthur admits.

Merlin nods at him, thinking that he understands what he means by this. “Thank you,” he replies.

“Be careful,” Arthur warns. “I cannot save you if you’re careless.” Arthur leads Hengroen towards the door of the stables. “Now come on, Lady Elisabeth is waiting for us.”

And Merlin smiles a little dizzy. Arthur _knows_. He may be mad at Merlin. He might even hate him a little. But he isn’t going to chop his head off. And he isn’t going to tell Uther. He isn’t going to banish him. It’s all a little bit too good to be true.

He feels the tug of their bond pulling him forward, and hurries to lead Molly out after Arthur, wondering why Arthur thinks they can do something as insane as riding horses together in their current state, but he’s in no place to argue that right now.

“Lady Elisabeth!” Arthur calls, as she walks down the stairs and towards them. There is a third horse nearby them, that has already been prepared for her by one of the stable boys. “So kind of you to join me for a ride this morning.”

“Thank you for inviting me, Prince Arthur,” she says smiling coyly. 

Arthur grins back at her rather awkwardly, by Merlin’s reckoning. Then he claps his hands together. “Right, shall we be off then?”

He mounts his horse swiftly, having ridden horses almost his entire life. Merlin had barely even ridden a horse at all before he came to Camelot, let alone one with a saddle. He is well used to it now, with all the riding he does with Arthur, but he has still yet to master the art of mounting gracefully, and even more so with regards to dismounting. Arthur still laughs at him and frequently wonders out loud how Merlin hasn’t managed to break his neck yet. But Merlin’s bad technique isn’t for lack of trying. Lancelot has spent many an afternoon out in the stables with him showing him the perfect way to get on and off a horse, but Merlin just can’t get it. He doesn’t see why it really matters how you get on and off of your horse, just so long as you can actually do it. Surely _that_ is the important part. Besides, if Arthur wasn’t laughing fondly at him over that, it would no doubt be over something else.

Everyone safely on their horse they start to canter through the courtyard. Merlin had begged Arthur when they’d headed down to the stables to go slowly so that they could match their horses paces and not to show off to Lady Elisabeth. He had nightmares of being yanked off his horse and being hurtled through the forest at speed unable to stop himself from hitting every obstacle between himself and Arthur.

It seems that Arthur has heeded his request as he behaves nicely and rides much more slowly and sedately than he usually would on a morning ride, under the guise of having a nice conversation with Lady Elisabeth. Merlin rolls his eyes at them and his attention wanders as he looks into the forest and tries not to eavesdrop on their lovey-dovey conversation.

He’s paying so little attention to their ride that his horse suddenly rears, startled by goodness knows what, and his lack of focus on her means that he has completely missed all of Molly’s usual warning signs. She bolts off in a right state and vaguely at the back of his mind Merlin registers Arthur’s small, surprised exclamation. But it’s all that Merlin can do to hold on, rigid with fright as his horse carens along at an alarmingly fast gallop. So fast that he doubts Arthur can possibly keep up, even on Hengroen. 

Arthur! Merlin suddenly remembers their bond with horror. He tries to crane his neck and search through the woods behind him. And it dawns on him then that Arthur is not being dragged behind him, as he would have been before. Has the bond finally been broken? Wouldn’t Merlin have felt it when it did? He’s not sure. Gaius was able to tell them so little, except that it would eventually wear off. It looks like it finally has. 

As he turns back to look ahead of him, Molly starts to ease up and slow down. Panting ridiculously, Merlin rubs her neck and mutters soothing words of comfort to her and when she’s calmed enough, he turns her around and they meet Arthur and Lady Elisabeth halfway.

“Ah, Merlin. There you are,” says Arthur.

“Sorry, Molly was spooked by something. I couldn’t stop her.”

Shrugging at him, Arthur gives him an easy, happy smile. “Well, no harm done. Let’s head back to the castle.”

***

Once back in Camelot, Arthur leaves Hengroen with Merlin as he walks in with Lady Elisabeth. Though she seems nice enough, Merlin can’t help but look daggers at her for monopolising Arthur’s time. At least he doesn’t have to be there now. He has a choice. Merlin can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, he won’t have to witness any more kissing. But on the other hand, he wants to be there to gauge how serious this thing might be becoming, at least that way he can prepare himself for the worst.

Once the horses are taken care of Merlin heads off to check on Gaius and then he’s roped into helping the other servants with the feast preparations and he doesn’t see Arthur for the rest of the day until it’s time for their usual evening routine. 

***

Merlin pushes open the door gingerly after having waited outside the door for several long minutes, wondering how best to approach things now that Arthur knows. Normally, he’d have no problem with slamming open the door and barging in as he’s always done. But things change once someone else has your life in their hands, and it only makes sense to perhaps approach things with a little more care until you really know where you stand.

“Arthur?” he calls.

The prince waves a hand at him from his desk where he’s still writing and Merlin, for once, waits there patiently for Arthur to finish. He carries on writing for a few moments before finishing in a flourish which Merlin recognises as Arthur’s signature and then he places the quill back in the pot. He looks up at Merlin expectantly and so Merlin knows he’s been given permission to speak.

“I came to ready you for bed, Sire,” Merlin says nervously. This is the first time they’ve been properly alone since the morning when Arthur was still not talking to him.

“Of course,” says Arthur getting up from his chair.

Merlin hurries here and there, thankfully unhindered by the limits of the bond, as he fetches all the things Arthur will need and readies him a pitcher of water and cloth for a small wash down.

Arthur watches him very closely as he goes about his duties. He takes a step towards his changing screen and then stops.

“Why are you doing all this?” Arthur asks him.

Merlin pauses midway through turning down the bedcovers. “Doing what?” he asks, as he starts to fluff the pillows.

“Still behaving like a servant.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow at him, puzzled. “Because I _am_ a servant,” he replies, and then adds, “your servant. Until the day I die.”

Arthur smiles faintly. “You said that before, and I always felt like you were saying goodbye to me.”

Replacing the pillow, Merlin walks back over towards him, rubbing the back of his neck to comfort himself.

“I was,” he says honestly. “I was going to bargain my life so that you could live after you were bitten by the questing beast.”

“And yet you’re still here…” says Arthur. 

“Mmm, it’s my destiny to be.”

Arthur gives him rather a strange look before he disappears behind his screen and gets changed. When he reappears again, he just says; “Show me.”

“Show you what?” Merlin can’t help but thing that Arthur is being way too cryptic right now.

“Magic,” says Arthur, licking his lips. “Show me some magic.”

A smile curls on Merlin’s lips and his stomach gives a delighted little flip. Arthur is asking him to do magic for him.

“Yes, Sire.”

Arthur grabs him by the wrist. “Not sire. Just… just Arthur.”

Nodding, Merlin takes a deep breath and wonders what he should do. He’s never got as far as thinking about this when he was worrying about Arthur finding out. He had never actually thought that it would turn out this well. He decides that it might be best to do something that will show his loyalty to Camelot first.

He goes over to the fireplace and pulls out a small branch, the kind he uses as kindling on the fire to get it started. He turns towards Arthur and speaks lowly, “Forbærne.”

Merlin hears Arthur inhale sharply and he knows that Arthur has seen his eyes and the branch catch light. He blows on the stick to extinguish the flame and then with a smile, he whispers, “Upastige draca”. The embers which linger in the air form themselves into a small dragon, which looks remarkably like the Pendragon herald, and it hovers there, flapping its wings between them for a few moments.

Daring to look up, Merlin sees Arthur staring at the dragon in awe with a small smile on his face. Merlin gives a flick of his hand and the embers scatter, arranging themselves above their heads in a mimicry of the night sky. And at that Arthur gasps out loud. 

“Those are… those are actually the stars! I can see the plough, and there, there’s the great bear! Merlin… this is incredible.”

They both look away from the ceiling, and over at each other and Merlin smiles shyly at Arthur’s praise and amazement. He holds the spell for a few moments more before letting it go and a shower of small embers fizzle out as they fall to the floor.

Arthur shakes his head at him. “And all this time you’ve let people think you’re some kind of simple-minded fool.”

“Well…” begins Merlin as he starts to walk back to the fireplace with the burned stick and manages to trip over his own feet.

“You’re right,” Arthur interrupts. “You’re still a fool. At least that bit wasn’t an act.”

Merlin turns to him with his eyes wide. “None of it was, Arthur! I was as honest as I could be, and from now on, as you know about it, I will tell you the whole truth, I promise.”

Climbing into the bed, Arthur pats the empty space on the right that Merlin had been occupying over the past few nights. “Quit giving me those doe eyes, I believe you.”

“I _don’t_ make doe eyes!” Merlin protests hotly and Arthur laughs as he lounges back in bed, suddenly looking as tired as Merlin feels. Merlin had forgotten that Arthur has probably worked as hard as he has since they parted ways.

“Come here,” Arthur says to him. “It’s too late now for you to go all that way back through the castle, only to traipse back in a few hours. You might as well just stay here. It’s not like I’m not used to sharing with you now. Get in.”

“You’re sure?” Merlin asks with a frown. 

Arthur shoots him an impatient look.

Biting his lip, Merlin slips off his jacket and lets it fall to the floor, he tugs at his neckerchief and it comes away easily since he hadn’t really knotted it properly that morning in his haste to get up and ready for their ride. He can feel heat rising in his cheeks as he realises that Arthur is watching him with a quiet intensity. 

His boots and socks come next and he shudders at the ice-cold stones beneath his feet. The shirt is the next thing to come off and he feels strangely exposed as he stands there in the middle of the room and he’s not even down to his smalls yet. He swallows and wishes that there weren’t this knot of emotion in his throat and a buzz of warmth in his belly. He’s being silly. Arthur would never be interested in him in _that_ way. He’s interested in girls like Lady Elisabeth. He’s not a freak like Merlin who still needs to hide away his preference for men. So much so that he makes sure that he doesn’t show interest in anyone. And it’s not like he and Arthur haven’t undressed in front of each other many, many times before. It doesn’t mean anything. Not to Arthur.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding as he undoes his breeches and lets them fall down his slim legs. He knows that he’s still a bit on the scrawny side compared to Arthur, even though he’s way past his growing years now. He just never seems to have filled out that much, despite there being more food here in the citadel. His mother says that it’s because he never stops working. She might have a point. He has two official jobs; Arthur’s manservant and Gaius’ apprentice. And then several unofficial ones; Arthur’s… guardian, he supposes, dragonlord, and the most disturbing one of all: Emrys. It’s a wonder he even has time to sleep most nights. It’s been a pleasant change of pace being stuck with Arthur, at the very least he hasn’t had to be Gaius’s dogsbody.

“Merlin, are you coming to bed, or not?” comes Arthur’s voice, interrupting his thoughts.

“Yes, sorry Si—” Arthur arches an eyebrow at him, as if to say, ‘we’re about to share a bed and you’re calling me, Sire?’ “—Arthur.” 

Merlin hurries over and slips under the covers. He snuffs out the candle with a thought.

“Did you—”

“Yeah, sorry.” Merlin apologises

“No, it’s okay. I—I like it. And thank you. For showing me.”

It feels good to hear Arthur thank him and even better to know that he actually enjoyed seeing Merlin’s magic. He lays there for some time, listening to Arthur’s breathing and the quiet crackling of the fire in the grate. He can tell Arthur is also having trouble sleeping and there’s still a tension in the air between them.

“Merlin,” says Arthur, his voice cutting through the silence.

“Mmm?”

“Do you think you could do that thing again?” Arthur asks quietly. “With the stars?”

Propping himself up on his elbow, Merlin holds his hand out towards the fireplace. He doesn’t even use a spell. He’s done this so many times in the past for his mother in their hut on cold winter nights. He pulls with his magic and takes the embers from the logs. He sends them up to the ceiling as he had done earlier before laying back down again.

“Beautiful,” breathes Arthur. Merlin smiles into the darkness watching the night sky above them. “You know, I thought that it would be weird, seeing you doing magic. That it might scare me. But it doesn’t. Is that strange? My father has told me my whole life how bad magic is and how evil sorcerers are. But you’ve used it to save my life and make dragons and stars. How is that evil?”

“There is no evil in sorcery,” says Merlin. “Only in the hearts of men.”

Arthur barked out a laugh. “Even now, Merlin, you’re still a puzzle to me. I’ve no clue how you can somehow be such an idiot, and yet, at the same time, wise.”

“I don’t either,” Merlin chuckles.

They lay there in a comfortable silence and there’s nothing that could ruin this moment for Merlin right now, it’s almost everything that he’s wanted from his friendship with Arthur. He’s always wanted Arthur to know, and he’s wanted him to accept who he is. Finally it actually seems to be happening.

He jumps a little when he feels the back of Arthur’s hand clumsily bump against his. Is that deliberate, or a mistake, or…? Arthur’s hand remains there, and so emboldened by this, Merlin places his hand over Arthur’s and gives it a little squeeze. He wants to stay awake and savour the feeling of Arthur’s hand in his forever. But it’s been an eventful day and he’s so tired… Just as sleep starts to claim Merlin, he’s sure that he feels Arthur squeeze his hand back.

***

The next morning Merlin awakes with a start as he feels a hot breath on the back of his neck and a line of warmth pressing against his back. As he blinks his eyes open he realises that he’s in Arthur’s chambers. Of course. He had performed magic for him yesterday, and Arthur had liked it. Then he had asked him to stay the night. Merlin wonders what it all meant to Arthur. He knows what it meant to him. But he doubts that his feelings are mutual. As he continues to feel the heat of Arthur at his back, Merlin realises that he needs to get out of bed before he has a repeat of the other morning. He palms himself through his breeches. But there’s no time for that, nor is there time to dwell on things. So he does his best to push the need from his mind. 

What he needs is to get up, get dressed, and to go down to the kitchen for breakfast. It’s a big day for Arthur today and Merlin wants the feast and dance to go without a hitch for him. Though, why the way these things are run is so important to nobles, Merlin still doesn’t understand. 

In Ealdor they just have a big celebration with food and beer and singing and dancing around the biggest fire that the boys of the village can build for the harvest. There’s no refinement or regard for manners. The important part of the celebration is praising the gods and thanking them for the village’s bounty, and then for everyone to have a good time.

With a small sigh and much regret, Merlin pulls himself away from Arthur’s warmth and the soft, cozy bed and rolls out of it into the cold air and freezing stone floor. He shivers involuntarily and hurries over to where he had discarded his clothes the night before, regretting now not taking the time to fold them and put them on a chair near Arthur’s fireplace. His teeth start to chatter as he hops into his breeches, almost tripping and falling flat on his face in his haste to get some clothing on. He hears a laugh from the bed, and blushes so intensely he can feel the way it heats his ears.

“Don’t let me stop you, Merlin,” says Arthur with a grin. “Especially if you’re about to go and fetch my breakfast.”

“Prat,” murmurs Merlin, not daring to look up. He hurries into his clothes as quickly as he can and then, with the burn of Arthur’s gaze still on him, Merlin gives him a quick, timid bow.

“I’ll just get you your breakfast, S—Arthur.”

And then he hurries out of the room as though they’ve just had some kind of sordid affair and not been merely sharing the same bed.

***

The rest of the day is as busy as the last and Merlin finds himself sent to-and-fro, delivering this and that, helping to hang new-to-him tapestries and moving various bits of furniture to other rooms around the castle. Despite his numerous tasks taking him all over the place, he doesn’t see Arthur even once. And when he finally has a moment to himself, he recalls Arthur wanting to fetch his best sword from the armoury to wear for the feast that night. If Merlin recalls correctly, it was getting a little on the dull side. So since he has a little bit of time, why not nip down to the armoury and give it a quick sharpen and polish to surprise Arthur with tonight. A little thank you for taking Merlin’s secret so well. Merlin’s sure that Arthur’s probably forgotten all about it with how busy he must be.

With that in mind, Merlin heads off and is soon safely ensconced in the peaceful, familiar room, surrounded by various pieces of armour. It’s pleasantly cool in there today, which makes a change from the usual temperature of the room which usually hovers between sweltering or positively frigid.

He hums a gentle lullaby that his mother used to sing to him as a child as he works. Swiping the wetting stone in smooth, soothing, repetitive motions. The door bangs open and Merlin almost drops both the sword and stone in surprise. He looks over his shoulder and Lancelot stands there and shrugs sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he apologises. “I didn’t think that anyone would be down here this time of day.”

“It’s fine,” says Merlin, putting down the stone and trying to calm his racing heart.

Lancelot comes and sits down with him.

“So how are you doing, Merlin? You look like Arthur’s been running you ragged.”

“Not Arthur,” Merlin says, “well, I guess in a way it is. But I’ve been helping to get the entire castle ready for the feast tonight. I’ve not seen Arthur all day.”

Grinning at him, Lancelot gives him a friendly nudge. “Ah yes, what a pity.”

“Shut up,” Merlin pouts. Lancelot knows all about his unfortunately crush on Arthur, having listened to Merlin pour out all his woes one rather drunken night down at the tavern when Arthur had been enthralled by Lady Vivian.

“You shouldn’t give up hope, you know. If Arthur doesn’t realise what he has in you, then that’s his loss, not yours.”

“I appreciate the sentiment. But he doesn’t feel the same way, Lancelot. I—the past few days, we were bonded—accidentally—by my magic…” 

Lancelot starts laughing. 

“It’s not funny!”

“It is a little bit. Your magic loves Arthur as much as you do.”

Merlin glares at him and then continues as if he hasn’t heard him. Just for that he won't tell Lancelot yet that Arthur _knows_.

“Anyway. We had no choice but to spend time together, and I let myself wonder, what if… What if it was like this every day? What if it was real? There were a few moments, late at night, where I wondered if Arthur might feel the same way… The first night, I touched his hand and he didn't move it away. And it could have been my mind playing tricks on me. But I swear he pressed his hand against mine. And then last night, he asked me to stay…" Merlin pauses and remembers the warmth of Arthur's hand in his. He can still feel the phantom sensation of him squeezing his hand. He shakes his head. "I'm sure I'm reading too much into it. It didn’t mean anything."

With a sigh, Merlin reaches for the whetstone. There is a scuffling sound near the door and they both look over their shoulders, but there’s no one there.

“Must have been rats of something,” muses Lancelot as he joins Merlin in tending to his own armour and sword.

“Must have been,” says Merlin faintly, his eyes lingering on the door.

***

Merlin’s hopes of giving Arthur his sword are dashed when he finally manages to make it back to his chambers and Arthur is already dressed and about to head down to the feast.

“You’re dressed!” Merlin exclaims.

“Yes, Merlin. Very good. Contrary to your beliefs, I can actually dress myself,” drawls Arthur.

“But I—” pants Merlin, having ran up several flights of stairs to be there. “I was going to— I sharpened your sword. I—”

Arthur shrugs on his jacket. “Put it on the table,” he instructs. “I don’t have time to put it on now. And I’ve rather re-thought the idea. It’s probably best not to wear a weapon when you’re trying to make allies. Now, come on. I need someone to serve me at the feast.”

***

The feast goes off without a hitch and Merlin doesn’t even spill from his jug of wine once, which is a bit of a miracle in and of itself.

Now the musician’s are playing their instruments in the corner of the room and the nobility have been dancing away for almost an hour. Merlin stands with his back pressed against the wall, waiting to see if Arthur has any more need of him, or if he’s going to dismiss him for the rest of the night. He grits his teeth and tries to look away as he has done every time that Arthur has danced with Lady Elisabeth tonight. But try as he might, he just can’t help the way that his eyes are drawn back to him. He watches the fine lines of Arthur’s body as he moves, so beautifully coordinated as he dances with her, a perfect match in a way that Merlin will never be, and his heart aches all over again. It is yet another painful reminder that Arthur’s future lays with a rich, noble woman, and not a poor, magical manservant. 

As the music slows and starts to change to a different tune, Arthur bows to the Lady Elisabeth and his eyes meet Merlin’s, his face indescribable.

Merlin can’t take it any longer and he suddenly bolts from the hall. He is confused and embarrassed that Arthur has caught him looking. He knows that it’s cowardly to run away from things like this, but he just can’t bear staying there a moment longer. He runs down the hallway and turns left, slipping into an empty room, letting the door close behind him. 

He rests his head against the bed post, relishing in the cooling effect of the wood against his forehead as he heaves a sigh.

“I’m such a stupid, stupid idiot,” he mutters to himself. 

He jumps as the door opens behind him and he bangs his head on the post. 

“Ow,” he complains, rubbing his head as he turns to see who it is that has so rudely interrupted him.

His breath catches in his throat as he sees Arthur standing there in the doorway. His golden hair haloed by the light of the torch on the corridor wall.

Arthur steps into the room, letting the door fall closed behind him, leaving the room lit in moonlight that comes in through the window. He continues his advance and Merlin opens his mouth to speak, but finds that the words just won’t come. Arthur fixes him with a determined look.

“A—Arthur… I can explain…” Merlin stutters nervously.

“So can I,” says Arthur softly. “You’re an idiot.”

He stops just before Merlin and cups his face in his hands, drawing Merlin closer to him as he kisses him. Merlin gasps into the kiss and digs his fingers into the soft velvet of Arthur’s doublet as he closes his eyes and angles his head for a deeper kiss. Arthur’s fingers smooth over his cheekbones and he pushes Merlin up against the bed post until their bodies are pressed together.

Merlin slides a hand around Arthur’s waist somehow pulling him even closer so that he can feel his body heat against his. Not quite able to believe it. He wants this. He wants it so badly. He wants to spend every day with this insufferable, demanding prince of his. To go to sleep with him late at night and wake up with him as the morning sun meanders towards their bed to greet them, alighting over Arthur’s pale, golden skin. He wants Arthur to _want him._

When they both finally pull away, in need of breath, Arthur presses his forehead against Merlin’s and Merlin can’t help but smile like a loon.

“I heard you in the armoury,” Arthur says quietly. 

Merlin looks into Arthur’s eyes, trying to gauge what he’s going to say next. “Oh.”

“It meant something,” Arthur continues. “It’s always meant something, this thing we have between us.”

Merlin laughs a little, partly with relief and partly with disbelief at Arthur’s words. 

“Okay,” he manages, and he’s just about to try and say something else when Arthur pushes him back against the post, rips away his neckerchief, and starts to press tender kisses to his neck. 

Merlin’s breath hitches and his hands scrabble helplessly at Arthur’s jacket and along his back until he can finally thread them through that delightful blond hair that he’s always longed to touch. It’s as soft and silky as Merlin had imagined and he tugs on it when he can no longer bear the way Arthur is sucking on his neck. He pulls Arthur off and covers Arthur’s lips with his as he walks them both back towards the bed. Arthur opens up to him and Merlin shivers with delight as their tongues meet. He feels Arthur’s hand snaking under his shirt, and his touch is warm against Merlin’s stomach.

Merlin hums into the kiss, lost on a sea of delight as Arthur licks into his mouth. His breath stutters as Arthur slips his fingers under the waistband of his breeches and Merlin pulls away. 

“Arthur,” he breathes, still out of breath. “Are you sure? This is all… It’s so sudden. I just—Please don’t do this if you don’t really mean it. Tell me that you really want it.”

Smiling at him, Arthur rubs his fingers over Merlin’s skin, making his muscles twitch. “I’m the prince of Camelot, Merlin. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t want it. I mean it, okay?”

Merlin lets out a sigh of relief as he looks into Arthur’s eyes and knows that he’s telling the truth. “Okay. Good.” He pulls Arthur close by the lapels of his jacket. “So where were we?”

“Right about here, I think,” murmurs Arthur, running his thumb over Merlin’s lips. He presses in and Merlin sucks it into his mouth. Arthur eyes widen and he lets out a moan as Merlin hollows his cheeks. “Fuck, Merlin.”

His hands find their way to Merlin’s breeches and he yanks and tugs at the laces. His eyes are dark with intent and Merlin whimpers around Arthur’s thumb as Arthur palms his cock through his breeches with his other hand.

Arthur pulls his thumb out of Merlin’s mouth with a wet pop and replaces it with a kiss. “Did you think,” he says as he presses kisses to Merlin’s lips, “that I didn’t hear you the other morning? Touching yourself in my bed?”

Merlin groans and arches into Arthur’s touch as he rubs his palm against Merlin’s rock hard cock. “Oh shit,” he cries.

“I had to lie there, listening to you trying to hold back all these little whimpers and moans—you were not very good at being quiet by the way—it drove me crazy.”

“Yeah?” breathes Merlin. “Well, I had to watch you undressing with your—your—” Merlin stumbles over his words as Arthur slides a hand inside Merlin’s smallclothes and pushes them down his hips for better access. 

“My what?” asks Arthur with a grin.

“Not—not going to tell you,” says Merlin. “You wouldn’t be able to fit your fat head through the door.”

Merlin’s head thuds back against the mattress as Arthur pushes him to the bed. He straddles Merlin and looks down at him triumphantly. “My head, is not fat. You take that back!”

“Make me,” says Merlin as he laughs into their kiss and his magic fizzles as Arthur fingers brush against his cock. 

He wonders for a second if he blacked out for a moment when Arthur’s fingers touched his cock. It’s entirely possible because Arthur is now laid out on top of him. He wraps his fingers firmly around Merlin’s cock, stroking his thumb over the head and Merlin can’t help but arch and moan, as a ripple of pleasure runs through him and his magic begins to thrum. This all feels too much, like there’s not enough air in the room. He can hear the faint hum of music from the dance, reminding him that they have to be crazy to be doing this here. But he would sooner die than stop.

He closes his eyes and tries to catch his breath as Arthur slowly starts to move his hand. Merlin fists his hands in the sheets and bites his lip. “Shit,” he says, his voice horse as Arthur tightens his grip and moves faster. It’s the most perfect thing Merlin has ever felt.

Merlin bucks up into Arthur’s hand as Arthur noses along his jaw and sucks his earlobe into his mouth, hot and wet. Merlin shudders as a wave of pleasure cascades through him and his cock throbs.

“So good for me, Merlin,” Arthur whispers with something akin to wonder. “Look at you, coming apart from just my hand.”

Sliding his fingers into Arthur’s hair, Merlin’s hips continue to move of their own accord and Merlin feels as though he’s about to explode.

“Touch me,” says Arthur, pulling Merlin’s hand to his crotch. Merlin scrabbles helplessly at the knot of his breeches before just magicking the laces away. Gods, how is this even happening? Merlin has thought about what it might be like with Arthur so many times, and now it’s happening. It’s not at all how he imagined. It’s even better. He pushes his hand inside Arthur’s smallclothes. The angle is tight, but it doesn’t matter as he closes his fingers around Arthur’s cock, hard and wet for _him_.

The way Arthur’s cock feels in his hand is amazing. Soft and smooth like velvet steel. Merlin’s not sure how much longer he can last. But he tries his best. He manages a few strokes, before his breath catches in his throat and his vision blurs as he comes. The candles and the fireplace flaring into life.

Arthur smiles, amused before he presses a kiss to Merlin’s lips and Merlin kisses back sloppily, too spaced out to do much else.

“Fuck,” Merlin breathes.

Arthur continues fucking into Merlin’s fist and as he starts to come back to himself Merlin tries to opens his eyes to watch as he tightens his fist. Arthur is so beautiful above him, his hair shining, his face flushed and his lips parted, a deep, puffy red. Merlin did that. If someone saw Arthur, they would be under no illusion as to what he had been up to. They just wouldn’t know that he’d had his wicked way with his manservant.

Their eyes meet and with an evil grin Merlin runs his fingers through his own release. He pushes them into his mouth, felatiating them. 

Arthur chokes and he comes with a full body shudder. 

***

Merlin is still grinning from ear to ear as they straighten out their clothing.

“Hang on,” he says, as Arthur goes to pull up his breeches. He mutters a spell which makes them both clean again, and as an afterthought he magicks Arthur’s laces back.

“Thanks,” says Arthur.

He seems much cooler and relaxed that Merlin who is still fuzzy and dazed from his orgasm.

"Look, Merlin,” Arthur begins as he places a hand on his shoulder. “You know that I can't go back to the dance with you. My father would never allow it. But tonight, once I'm done and I can put away duty and obligation, come back with me to my chambers and stay the night."

A smile curves on Merlin’s lips. “Yeah, all right,” he says casually and Arthur elbows him in the gut.

“I suppose we ought to get back before someone comes to look for us,” Arthur says, leading the way to the door. 

As they make their way back to the hall, neither of them dare to do so much as look as each other. But when the back of Arthur’s hand brushes against his Merlin’s heart does a flip in his chest and he’s grinning like an idiot again.

Back inside the hall, Merlin watches Arthur again as he makes his way through the noble men and women having a short word with each one. This time he watches with a glad and full heart, as Arthur approaches Lady Elisabeth. They appear to have a rather heated talk which ends with her storming off in a strop and Arthur looks over at him with a wry grin as he nods his head in the direction of the exit.

Just as soon as they’re away from the great hall, Arthur reaches for Merlin’s scarf and pulls him closer. He presses a quick kiss to his lips before he releases Merlin again and strides off down the hall with a grin. Leaving Merlin befuddled and surprised in his wake.

Arthur turns and looks at him. “Merlin,” he says impatiently. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” replies Merlin. “I am.”


End file.
